I Don't Feel Like Dancing
by Nuwanda
Summary: When Harry is told that he will have to open the Yule Ball again that year, Professor McGonagall not-so-gently informs him that his dancing is not up to par. He needs lessons. And who are will these lessons be from? None other than Draco Malfoy. So why isn't the obnoxious git mocking him mercilessly? And why is he being strangely...nice? HP/DM. (In this piece the ball is yearly.)
1. Chapter 1

"Mr. Potter, please stay behind for a moment."

Dammit. Harry had been one foot out the door when McGonagall had caught him. He shrugged at his friends, who looked sympathetically at him. "Meet you in the great hall?" Hermione whispered.

Harry nodded. "As soon as possible." He watched his two friends disappear down the hallway and, with a sigh, turned back to his teacher, who looked amused at his clear frustration.

"You'll be free in just a moment, Mr. Potter, I promise."

Harry couldn't help a small abashed smile at being so clearly caught out. "Sorry, Professor."

"It's quite all right. I just need to inform you that, due to your recent celebrity after the _TriWizard Tournament_ , it has been decided that you will once more open the ball, as you did last year."

Harry stared at Professor McGonagall, not at all certain he had heard her correctly. "I…..are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Potter."

"You mean….dancing again? With a partner?"

"That is exactly what I mean."

Harry was finding words of any kind extremely difficult. "But…why? I mean, half the world thinks I'm crazy and the other half think I'm a liar, going on about Voldemort like I did!"

"I am aware of this. But Professor Dumbledore feels that for this very reason, it is important to show that we stand together in the face of the return of this evil."

The words sank in slowly. This wasn't done just to appease the paparazzi; no. Dumbledore wanted to show wizarding world at large that he and the rest of Hogwarts stood behind Harry, that they believed him. If that was the case, then it was worth enduring any amount of public humiliation, dancing included.

He nodded. "I understand."

McGonagall smiled. "I was certain you would."

Satisfied that they were finished, Harry adjusted his bag on his shoulder and turned to the door, but he was stopped once again. "One more thing, Mr. Potter." Biting his lip to control the grimace that was threatening to escape, he turned back to his teacher. "I'm afraid it's slightly more serious than all that. You're going to have to take dancing lessons."

"Lessons?!"

Harry's scandalized voice rang loudly throughout the now empty Transfiguration classroom. McGonagall glanced up from the papers she was rifling through just long enough to give Harry a reprimanding look.

"Yes, Potter, lessons. I do not say this to be cruel, Mr. Potter, but your dancing at the last ball...well...let us just say that it left a great deal to be desired."

Harry flushed and hated himself for it. "But...but I..." he floundered, struggling hard to come up with any excuse that could prevent him from having to take these accursed lessons. "...but there isn't enough time!" he said at last, triumphantly. "The ball is in less than a month!"

"Which is exactly why I have chosen an extremely talented dancer to be your teacher," McGonagall interrupted. "He should have no problem teaching you some basic moves in the few short weeks we have left."

Wait a second...

"... _he?_ " Harry echoed, heart pounding a bit faster out of fear.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, _he_ ," McGonagall stressed, and it was easy to hear the annoyance beginning to overcome her tone now. "For your instructor, I have chosen Draco Malfoy."

Before the words had even left McGonagall's mouth, Harry was shaking his head forcefully 'no' and silently mouthing the word. "No, no, no, no, NO!" he spoke aloud as soon as his professor had quieted down. "Out of the question. I can't."

McGonagall arched a skeptical eyebrow. "...oh? And why not?" Harry stood there silently, unable to come up with a better reason than 'I hate the slimy bastard and want him to die.' His professor sighed. "Well, then, I don't really see what the problem is. I know you two don't exactly see eye to eye..."

"We hate each other," Harry interrupted bluntly. McGonagall continued as though she hadn't heard him.

"...but I had hoped that you could both be a little bit mature and put all this past you. However, if you feel this is not the case..." McGonagall gave the slightest flick of her wand and a roll of parchment appeared out of thin air. Catching it, she held it out to Harry. "This is a list of all students in this school qualified to teach you. They are all, as I'm sure you'll be delighted to discover, female...with the exception of Mr. Malfoy." Harry chose to ignore that amendment, reaching for the scroll. "However," and she pulled the parchment just out of his reach as though to ensure he paid full attention to this next bit, "I would implore you to reconsider your decision. First of all, almost any girl you ask will be fawning over you like a house elf on butterbeer."

Harry swallowed with some difficulty; he hadn't thought of that. Ever since the fourth year, he had been growing steadily in popularity; he was positive that this situation would only worsen now that whoever he invited to the ball would be opening the entire event with him. Harry was not looking forward to being swarmed by over-enthusiastic females. He shook the thought away; McGonagall was still talking.

"In addition," his professor continued, "none of these girls, not a single one of them, has had the sort of training that Mr. Malfoy has had."

At these words, Harry's eyebrows shot so high up that they disappeared beneath the messy fringe of dark hair sweeping across his forehead, and he couldn't fully suppress the smile that leapt unbidden across his lips. "...Malfoy's had _dancing lessons?_ "

McGonagall gave him such a disapproving look that he almost managed to control his amusement...almost. "As I'm sure you are aware, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy comes from a family of good breeding and high standing. He has been well trained in all of the traditional ways expected of a young man who will someday, if all goes properly, become an important figure in this world of ours. There is more to it than just wizardry, Mr. Potter. There is also conversation, etiquette, wit, traditional combat, and...of course...dancing." Luckily, Harry had managed to suppress his amusement, for McGonagall no longer looked in any way pleased.

"...he's really that good, is he?" Harry asked at last after the longest of pauses. McGonagall nodded her head very seriously.

"Indeed he is," she answered. "I have been here many years, Mr. Potter, and witnessed many balls, and I must confess that young Mr. Malfoy is one of the most graceful and talented dancers I have ever seen...and, having witnessed Professor Dumbledore at work when he was young, that _is_ saying something." Thrusting the roll of parchment into Harry's hands (he stood too astonished to take it himself), McGonagall turned and headed for the door. She made it only as far as the doorway before pausing. "Oh, and Mr. Potter...?" Harry glanced up. "You have but three days...three short days to choose an instructor before I shall make the choice for you." And with a sweep of robes she was gone.

"Lessons?" Ron hooted, an expression of wicked glee on his face. "She thinks you were that bad that she wants you to take lessons?"

Harry scowled across the table at his best friend. "Shut up, Ron. I wouldn't talk if I were you, seeing as your dancing is nothing to be proud of."

"Hey, at least _I_ don't need to take lessons."

"That's only because YOU'RE not opening the ball dancing in front of the entire school!" Harry was completely frustrated. He had three days...three, transient days...then it was over. Then McGonagall would MAKE him dance with Malfoy. He glanced up and across the room. It wasn't hard to pick Draco out amongst the others. The slim, sarcastic blonde was seated in his usual spot at the Slytherin table, lounging back in his seat and looking for all the world as if he owned the place. Staring at that blatant sarcasm, it was hard to imagine Draco dancing. Harry thought back as hard as he could to the night of the ball to see if he could remember even one tiny snippet of Draco dancing, but he couldn't; there was none. As far as he could remember, the blonde hadn't left his seat all night.

"Who else is on it?" Hermione asked, drawing Harry out of his stupor.

"...huh?"

"The list, Harry...who else is on the list?"

"Oh...I haven't checked yet." Feeling a cloud of dread settling over him again, Harry pulled the roll of parchment out of his bag and slowly unrolled it, pressing it flat to the table. Immediately his heart sank. "...oh no."

"What? What is it?" Ron tried to snatch the parchment away, but Harry slid it across the table to Hermione's patiently waiting hand.

"I don't know almost any of the girls on that list," Harry mumbled, face buried in his hands. "And the ones I do know...it's just too awkward to even ask."

"Like who?" Ron was now trying with all his might to read the words over Hermione's shoulder, but she was effectively keeping it out of his sight.

"...Parvati Patil?" Hermione read aloud. "That's not too bad, Harry.

"Oh yeah, after it went SO well last time, I may as well just ask her again," Harry shot back sarcastically.

"I guess I see your point." Hermione scrolled down the list. "I don't even KNOW some of these people! Rose Zeller? Daphne Greengrass?"

"Pureblood."

"What?"

"She's a pureblood. That second one. I wouldn't even go there."

"Oh." Hermione nodded knowingly and kept reading. "Well..." shrugging, she handed the list over. "Sorry, Harry. Looks like you're on your own."

Harry groaned. "Why can't someone cool be on it? Like...I don't know...Katie Bell?"

"Because girls who play sports aren't good at dancing?" Ron suggested.

"Not necessarily true," Hermione objected. "That's like saying that someone bookish wouldn't make a good ballerina." She tossed a handful of fluffy hair over one shoulder as she said this, and Ron arched an eyebrow, gesturing towards her.

"Just to prove my point."

"Shut up, Ron." Hermione was a bit pink across the nose now and looked as though she would rather like to hit Ron, but she held back, instead turning her attention to Harry. "Well, why don't you just ask Ginny?"

It was Ron's turn to change red...or orangish, really, sort of the color of his hair. "THAT IS OUT OF THE QUESTION!"

Harry grinned. "Actually, I think I'd do it just to piss Ron off...cept she's not on the list, so it'd never fly with McGonagall." The grin faded away as he groaned, allowing his head to fall to the table with a thump. "Ohhhh, this is never gonna work! I'm screwed! I am so totally screwed! There is just no way to get around this without asking Malfoy!"

"So why don't you just do it already and get it over with?" Hermione obviously had no patience for Harry's complaints. "REALLY, Harry. What's the worst that could happen?"

Harry turned his head ever so slightly, staring incredulously up at Hermione. Unfortunately, the look didn't get through. She either didn't get it or didn't care. "What's the worst that could happen?" he echoed. "WHAT'S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN?!"

"Um, yeah. Honestly, Harry. So he could laugh at you a lot and ruin your reputation. So what? You've been through worse than that before."

Harry realized then that Hermione had a point. He had been under the scrutiny of the entire wizarding world for far too long now...been mocked by thousands of people. So why was this one opinion so important?

Turning his head, he gazed across the room in Draco's direction, and noticed with shock that the boy was already staring in his direction...no, not in his direction...those ice gray eyes were locked right onto Harry.

The Gryffindor felt his heart freeze, his entire body shrinking under that gaze, skin growing warm and flush. Swallowing hard, he stared back, determined to ignore the blush along his cheeks, mouth setting firmly, green eyes unblinking.

Draco seemed almost to smile at that, though the line of his lips didn't change at all...at least not noticeably. It was something in the sudden softness just around the corners of his eyes, or the way roughness of his brow seemed to ebb away like foam on the tide.

"...Harry?"

Harry jumped. "What?" he squeaked out, turning. Hermione and Ron were watching him, Ron with a quirked eyebrow and Hermione with some curiosity.

"What are you doing?"

"Um...nothing. Nothing. Just thinking..."

"Any solution yet?"

"Not really." Harry took a deep breath. "But...maybe I will ask Malfoy."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

"Shut UP, Ron!" Hermione smacked the other boy.

"Yeah..." at Ron's words, Harry felt butterflies in his stomach again, but he swallowed them away. "I mean, you're right, Hermione. What's the worst that can happen?"

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad to see you being so mature about this, Harry."

Harry returned her smile weakly and turned away, green eyes searching out that pale smooth face across the room. It wasn't there. Draco had left. He was surprised to feel a wave of disappointment echo through his body as he realized this. The absence of Draco could usually only be regarded as a good thing. Oh well. It was something that could be figured out later. Or ignored.

A memory of silver gray eyes boring into his own hit him like an icy snowball and he paled.

Yeah...ignored was good.

 **~tbc~**


	2. Chapter 2

Two days had passed. Two hellish days. Harry hadn't been able to bring himself to actually ask any of the girls for dancing lessons. The few he had approached at all had either lit up at his appearance and (as McGonagall had warned) begun flirting at once, or, in the case of the older girls, stared at him with such disdain that he withered beneath the attention and, mumbling an excuse beneath his breath, skulked away at once.

"What are you going to do?"

Harry didn't look up at Hermione's voice, simply sat there at the table with his face buried in his hands, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. After a moment, he mumbled something into his hands.

Hermione leaned in closer. "What was that?"

Harry looked up, peering at her between his fingers. "Ask Malfoy, I suppose."

Ron looked shocked, which was ridiculous, since Harry had brought up this suggestion before, and opened his mouth to object, but at a glare from Hermione, he shut his mouth with a snap. "I think that's a very sensible solution," she said.

"Sensible," Harry sighed, "but not a very fun one."

"Fun?" Ron echoed with disbelief. "It's going to be humiliating!"

"Yes, thank you, Ron!" Harry glared. "You do realize you're not being helpful at all?"

"Just saying." Ron poked at his breakfast. "He's going to mock you as much as he 'helps' you, if not more."

"Probably," Harry agreed morosely. "But he does have to help me. If he agrees to give me lessons and doesn't follow through, McGonagall is sure to punish him somehow. Some horrible form of detention."

Even Ron was forced to concede the point with a tiny nod of his head.

"So you'll tell McGonagall today?"

Harry nodded his head in agreement to Hermione's query. "After class."

It was only one o'clock when Harry went to find Draco. McGonagall had been extremely pleased with Harry's decision, so pleased that he hadn't the heart to tell her that it really had been his last resort.

"Go to the Potions classroom," she had told him. "Mr. Malfoy will be there, if I'm not mistaken."

Harry had been completely taken aback. "What's he doing _there?_ "

"Reading."

Harry couldn't have been more surprised if Snape had popped out of thin air wearing a grass skirt and begun to hula dance. "….reading? Draco reads?"

"Of course he reads. How do you think he completes his schoolwork?"

He began to shake his head. "No, I mean….for fun."

McGonagall was looking at Harry in extreme disapproval. "Quite often." He withered beneath that look. "I must say, I'm very disappointed in the amount of prejudice you've shown these past few days."

Harry felt anger stirring in him. How could she label him prejudiced, after the way Draco had behaved towards him these few years? But he dared not say a thing, and she was clearly done discussing the matter, for she had turned back to the scrolls on her desk.

"The Potions room, Mr. Potter."

It was a clear dismissal if ever there was one. Harry nodded, swallowing down his anger, and left the room.

Prejudiced? Him?

It was certainly something to think about.

* * *

The door to the Potions room was shut. As soon as Harry knocked, he regretted his decision to do so. His heart was pounding away in his chest with a sick dizzying thud. The air around him seemed hazy and he couldn't catch a decent breath. _Calm down,_ he told himself. _You can do this. Honestly, Potter...what're you so afraid of? It's ONLY Draco!_

He immediately realized two things: first of all, there was no such thing as ' _only_ Draco,' and secondly, the fact that it was Draco who was really the source of the problem. Feeling the panic taking over again, Harry made up his mind to turn tail and run...too late. The door before him opened, revealing none other than the infamous Slytherin himself.

Draco Malfoy stood framed in the doorway, staring straight-facedly at Harry, who felt himself flushing. Finally, after several moments of silence, Draco spoke up. "Well..." and now Harry was almost certain he could see the tiniest hint of amusement in those icy gray eyes, "...I'm sure there must be an absolutely _spectacular_ explanation for this."

Harry stared, unable to come up with a thing to say. Part of him was still in shock at the fact that he had come to this room at all, but another part of him was too surprised at Draco's appearance. The blonde looked nothing like he normally did.

Draco Malfoy stood there in the doorway, frozen like some very beautiful painting. He was dressed as Harry had never seen him before...not nearly as uptight as usual. The impeccably ironed white shirt was barely visible, covered as it was by a soft and slightly faded green sweater that Harry had never seen the Slytherin wear. The sleeves of the sweater were pushed up as though to keep the loose fabric out of the wearer's way, but they had been rolled unevenly, as if Draco had pushed them up absentmindedly, impatiently. Protruding from underneath the rolled sleeves was the usual white dress shirt, only it too was different. It wasn't its customary pressed self, but slightly loose and wrinkled, more careworn and natural than those shirts Draco usually wore. Instead of carefully polished black shoes, Draco's feet were ensconced in a pair of soft and comfy looking slip-on sneakers, the toes battered and nearly worn through. The usually immaculate blond hair was a mess, as though Draco had been repetitively struggling to keep it pushed out of his eyes, and there was a thick and battered book in his right hand.

"...you looking for something in particular, Potter, or are you just looking?" The amusement in Draco's voice snapped Harry immediately back to life, and a flush spread up into his cheeks.

"Um...neither, really," he managed. Draco arched one slim, skeptical eyebrow, small smile still gracing his lips.

"... _really_ ," he said. There were worlds of doubt in that one word. Harry struggled to speak, but his mind still rebelled fiercely at the idea of asking Draco Malfoy for dancing lessons.

"I..." he began, but then made it no further. "...I..." Draco waited patiently, amused smile on his face as he watched. Harry stood frozen in panic. His brain, deciding dancing with Draco was too big a sacrifice to make, had shut down completely. "...I...was wondering..."

"...yes?" Draco responded. His tone was not what Harry would ever under any circumstances have called encouraging, but it was the closest thing to it that he had ever heard coming from Draco. Desperate to finish this encounter and leave, his eyes roamed wildly about for something, someone, _some_ kind of help...and settled on Draco's sleeves.

"...how did you get your sleeves to stay up like that?"

This time, Draco's face registered surprise, though just barely, just in those icy eyes, and he stared at Harry for a moment as though trying to determine if Harry was for real or not. The Boy Who Lived was currently kicking himself inwardly for asking such a stupid question.

"Just a little something I made up," Draco responded at last, watching Harry with a curiously wary eye. He slipped a finger beneath a sort of band on his arm that Harry had previously been unable to see and tugged at it, revealing its stretch. "I made them out of something I got Pansy to give me...headbands, I think. Did a bit of work on them, got them to fit."

"Really?" Harry couldn't believe Draco was buying that stupid question, which in reality, Draco was not.

"Yeah...wasn't difficult, really, they were elastic already, so it was easy to adjust them to fit."

"Oh."

"...keeps my sleeves out of my way when I'm reading, though," Draco said after a moment's pause; this was all far too weird.

"That must be useful."

"It is."

There were a long few moments of utter silence as Draco stared at Harry, who kept his gaze firmly locked on those sleeves. Finally, Draco spoke up. "...I hope you didn't honestly come here to discuss my fashion sense," he said at last. "Because if so, that makes you a really sad person."

Harry blushed yet again. "No," he said at last. "No, I didn't come here for that."

"Then what _did_ you come here for?"

There was a long, seemingly interminable moment of complete silence. Harry knew that he had to ask, had to ask or get the hell out and spend the rest of his time at Hogwarts thinking about his decision (though whether or not he would regret not asking he still couldn't quite figure out). He took a deep breath. "Um...well, you see, it goes something like this...Professor McGonagall told me three days ago that I'm supposed to open the ball again this year..."

"What a surprise," Draco said dryly. Harry scowled; maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"However," he continued as though he hadn't heard a word Draco had said, "she seems to think that my dancing needs some improvement."

Draco stared for a moment, eyes widening in a look of amused surprise. "You actually feel the need to tell me how terrible your dancing is? Apparently you're deluding yourself a bit, Potter...everyone in that room could tell that your dancing leaves a lot to be desired."

Harry glared. "Can't just make this easy for me, can you?" he asked, frustration in his voice. "Have to make things difficult, as always."

Draco coughed, clearing his throat. "Not at all...beg your pardon." Harry eyed Draco suspiciously, not believing that the Slytherin was actually sorry.

"...you're...apologizing?"

"...maybe."

Harry eyed Draco for a moment longer, then scowled. "I don't believe you. There's no way you're sorry for saying that."

"Okay, _fine_ , Potter, I'm not sorry for saying it."

"Then what are you sorry for?"

"...let's just say I'm sorry and leave it at that." Harry opened his mouth as though to say something else, but Draco didn't let him. "By all means, Potter, tell your story." When Harry didn't say anything but simply stared, Draco gave a little half shrug as though to ask what the Gryffindor was waiting for. "...continue."

Harry sighed as though Draco was simply too much to deal with, but he did as he was told and Draco made a little note on his mental checklist. _Obeys orders fairly promptly...check._ The thought caused the tiniest of wicked grins, and he suppressed it immediately, telling himself to listen to whatever proposition Harry was about to make. _Oooh...proposition._ He winced. _Bad choice of words._ At that thought, he nearly began giggling aloud, and would have, too, except for one simple fact: Draco Malfoy never giggled.

"...Draco, are you listening at all?"

Draco snapped out of his reverie. "...no," he answered truthfully. Harry scowled at him.

"Maybe you can get by in Potions without paying any attention, but it's not going to work here."

"God, you never stop bitching, do you, Potter?" Draco ran a hand through his hair, combing the pale blonde locks off his forehead. He did it as though he had done it a thousand times before, succeeding more in tangling his tresses than getting them out of his way and thus explaining just why his hair was so messy. "Just finish the story, will you?"

"It's not really a story."

"Then what is it?" Draco was getting equally exasperated.

"...it's more of a question, really." Harry was still stalling, and Draco could tell.

"Then just ask the bloody question, will you?"

"FINE! Will you give me dancing lessons!" The words burst out, sounding much more like an angry rant than a question, but it was question enough. Both boys froze immediately, Harry's hand flying to his mouth as though he could still stop the words from escaping, Draco staring in complete and utter shock. Neither moved, just stood there, staring. Harry was inwardly dying a thousand and one deaths, each one more painful than the last, dying as he waited for Draco to hex him into the next dimension. Then he noticed that the blond had a funny look on his face...a _very_ funny look.

Harry opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but before he could, he heard the slightest sound, as though the tiniest snicker had escaped Draco's lips. But that was impossible...Draco rarely laughed, almost _never_ laughed. Yet...there it was again. Harry stared in astonishment as, after struggling for several more seconds to hold back his mirth, Draco gave in, laughter bursting forth. Harry's astonishment gave way to sheer annoyance. "Thanks for laughing," he said dryly. "That's a big help to my self-esteem."

"Oh come on, Potter," Draco managed to gasp out, "your head doesn't need to be any bigger than it is already."

"As a matter of fact, I suffer from severe self-esteem issues, Malfoy," Harry shot back sarcastically. "Thanks for helping me overcome them."

"Heh heh..." Draco was struggling with some difficulty to get control of himself. "Sorry."

Harry's ears perked up immediately. Was Draco actually apologizing twice within ten minutes? He watched the other boy, noting how Draco's normally alabaster pale skin was flushed pink, watched the way Draco wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. _Well, what do you know...I actually made Draco Malfoy laugh so hard he cried. True,_ he thought wryly, _it'd be better if that laughter wasn't at my expense...but I'll take what I can get._

"I don't know that I've ever seen you laugh like that," Harry said, somewhat cautiously.

"Well," Draco said, rather breathless from all the laughing, "maybe you just haven't looked closely enough before. Or maybe I've changed. Take your pick, I'm game for either."

Harry stared at Draco, scrutinizing. "I'm not sure I follow."

"I'm not certain you have to."

The Gryffindor let out an unintelligible sound which was half sigh, half exasperated growl. "See, that's more like you! You're so damn infuriating!"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am an evil prick. But apparently I'm your only hope of dancing salvation, and right now, you're the only thing that's standing in the way of that. I'm certainly not trying to pick any fights here. You're the one who's doing that."

Harry was silent for a long time, considering what Draco had said. It certainly seemed true enough. Draco was being perfectly genial, for reasons that Harry didn't understand. Maybe it was all an act. From his past encounters with the Slytherin, he was apt to believe this to be true. On the other hand, Hermione and Ron had always accused him of being a bit quick to blame Draco for everything that went wrong at Hogwarts. And Draco certainly did seem sincere. And, as the blond pointed out, Harry did need Draco's help. And really, it was just dancing. Just some simple little dancing.

"So," Harry asked at last. "Will you do it?"

"What, teach you to dance?" Draco waited for Harry's nod of agreement, then, head cocked to one side, he watched Harry, closely examining the Boy Who Lived, pondering the situation. "...yes," he said at last, very decisively, "I will. If only to save us all the trauma of watching you lollygag your knobby-kneed way around the dance floor again. I guess it's better for the world if only I suffer from watching your horrible dancing, instead of all Hogwarts."

"Thanks," Harry replied dryly.

"Don't mention it." Draco sighed, running his hand through his hair again and mussing it even more. Harry stared.

"...you really are making an appalling mess of your hair, do you know that?"

"What are you, my bleeding father?" Draco immediately snapped back sharply, his eyes hardening into that much more familiar look that Harry was accustomed to. In a way he was happy; it was something he was used to, as opposed to this calm, easygoing Draco, this Draco who laughed at things that weren't derogatory to Harry, who discussed matters in a friendly manner, who _apologized._ But on the other hand...

...on the other hand, Harry rather thought he liked that Draco better. If that Draco was real.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean anything by it. I actually like it. It looks nice. Much more relaxed..." but before he could finish the sentence, Draco was laughing again, but it was more of a cynical chuckle.

"Are you complimenting me, Potter?" the blonde asked disbelievingly, one slim brow arched with skepticism. Harry flushed yet again.

"Well, no. I mean, well, I just thought I should-"

"I mean, I guess when one's hair looks like yours, anything looks good by comparison."

Harry could feel his face turning even redder and his mouth shut tightly to prevent whatever vile thing was going to come out. Draco smiled.

"Relax, Potter, I jest. Sort of. Surely even you know that your hair is utterly ridiculous. I'm just giving you a hard time."

"As usual," Harry muttered.

"Exaaaactly," Draco replied, drawing the word out until it was almost a purr. "You see, we all have our little roles to play. The world has already put you in the role of Noble Hero, so I unfortunately am let to pick up the sloppy seconds. I guess that makes me stuck with Obnoxious Bully. But I do it well, don't you think? And...if I do say so myself...quite charmingly." He tossed his hair at this, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. Draco smiled. "But enough about my fabulous good looks. When do you want to do this?"

The subject change came on so suddenly that Harry was momentarily lost. "When...wait...do what?"

Draco rolled his eyes and, stepping to the side, jumped lightly into the air and kicked his heels together in a little jig. "Dancing lessons, Potter?"

"Please tell me that's not what you're going to teach me."

"Duh, you said you wanted Leprechaun Square Dancing 101, didn't you?"

"I think I liked it better when you had no sense of humor."

"Come on, Potter, you know I'm totally charming." Draco ran a hand through his hair again and Harry couldn't help but smile, for by now Draco's hair was getting close to resembling Harry's own; it was that messy. "How about tonight?"

The smile faded around the edges; Harry swallowed nervously. "T...tonight?"

"Yes, tonight. What...you have a hot date? Who with...come on, you can tell me."

"There's no hot date," Harry insisted, feeling heat creeping up his collar, but Draco interrupted.

"Oh, come on, Harry, I'd tell you if it were me, you know that. I keep up to date on all the gossip, you know. Every week you're dating some new girl."

"I am not!"

"According the school gossip, you are."

"I don't _care_ what they say-"

"Calm down, Harry, can't you take a joke?"

Harry was silent for a long moment. "...not from you," he said at last, very careful to keep his voice level.

Draco stared, but finally he nodded. "Understandable. Guess I'm giving you a hard time. If I were you, I probably would have punched me in the face by now."

Harry smiled slightly. "Does that mean I have your permission?"

Laughing, Draco shrugged. "Take a whack at it, if you like. Doesn't mean you'll get your dance lessons, though."

"Ah, scratch that, then. Damn stupid lessons." Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, and then froze as he realized that the motion mirrored that of Draco's. Quickly he shifted the tousling motion so that he was instead scratching his head and tried to act nonchalant. "So...you said tonight?"

"If it's good for you." Draco didn't sound as if he cared one way or another. Harry still couldn't get his mind around this new Draco. He was friendly, but not. Teasing, but not quite in the same way a friend would be. And he seemed so uncaring about some things and so very interested in others. It was altogether bizarre. "I know a place in downtown London where we could go. I can talk to McGonagall if you like, see if she approves."

"Yeah, sure. That sounds great." Harry now just wanted to get this whole affair over with. Strangely enough, he was starting to find himself liking this new Draco, and was now desperate to get out of there and away from the uncomfortable feeling. "What time?"

"Well, the place doesn't open till around nine, but I'm on good terms with the manager, so I bet I could get us in early...buy us some alone time so you don't humiliate yourself in front of everyone."

"Thanks a lot," Harry said dryly.

"Oh, don't mention it," Draco grinned. "So, let's say we meet in the Great Hall around...seven-thirty?"

"Fine by me."

"Fine." There was a long, awkward silence that neither of them seemed willing to break. Finally, Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Well...I guess I'll see you later, then." And turning on his heel, he began walking away as fast as he could. But then that silky voice called after him.

"Harry!" The Gryffindor screeched to a halt, not turning, just stopping and standing frozen in the middle of the hall.

"...yes?"

"It's a nice club, okay? So be sure you dress nice. Nothing too fancy, just...nice."

Harry stood in silence for a moment, unsure of what Draco could possibly mean, scared stiff at the prospect of what going to a club with Draco entailed, and totally confused by the whole encounter. Completely terrified, he hurried away without saying another word, leaving Draco smiling after him.

 **~tbc~**


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't believe you're really doing this!" Ron moaned as he flopped back on his bed, hands pressed over his eyes.

"Shut up, Ron." Hermione was perched on the edge of Harry's bed. "You're just going to make him nervous, and he really doesn't need that now. So if you have nothing good to say, why don't you leave?"

"Thanks, Hermione." Harry smiled at her in the mirror's reflection, then peered nervously at his own image. "...do you think this outfit is nice enough?"

Hermione slid easily off the bed and came over to stand beside Harry. "Turn around." He spun to face her so she could get a better look and she lifted his arms out slightly so that she could see the entire outfit. "Hmm...turn." Harry spun in a circle. "No, slowly, Harry." Chin cupped in one hand, she pondered. "What do you think, Ron?"

"I think this whole idea is utter bollocks."

"Ronald, shut UP!"

Harry sighed. "Really, Ron, you're being a pain in the ass."

"Seriously, Ronald, if you can't be helpful, either shut up or leave." Hermione ran her hands over Harry's shoulders and over his back, smoothing down the shirt. "Well, I think it looks very nice, Harry."

"Don't know why you want to dress up for Malfoy, anyway," Ron grumbled.

"I don't want to dress up for HIM," Harry repeated, for what he felt must have at least been the fifth time. "He said we're going to a nice club."

"Why is he taking you to a club, anyway? Why can't he just teach you here?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort (Ron was really getting on his nerves) and then paused with his mouth hanging open. He really had no answer for that one. Why _was_ Draco taking him to a club? Ron actually had a perfectly good point this time. "...I don't know," he answered tiredly.

"HA! Sounds damn suspicious to me."

"Nobody cares," Hermione snapped. "As long as Professor McGonagall says its okay, then it'll be fine."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror. He really didn't have many nice clothes here at school; he mostly kept casual clothes for class, so it had been difficult picking something out. Still, the green button down brought out the color of his eyes, and coupled with a gray t-shirt down worn underneath it, it looked very nice. Plus, the black jeans made his ass look good. _Why do I care what my ass looks like? I'm going out with Malfoy!_ He berated himself for having such a thought.

"When are you supposed to meet him?"

Harry glanced at his watch. "Oh, shit. Now."

"Well, you'd better get going, then." Hermione gave Harry a quick, tight hug. "Good luck!"

"Thanks." He opened the door, pausing to look Ron's way. "...later, Ron."

Ron gave a grunt to show that he still disapproved of the whole endeavor. "G'd luck, Harry."

Harry smiled. "That was more than I was hoping for from you. Thanks." And shutting the door behind him, he made his way as fast as he could towards the Great Hall. Hopefully he hadn't kept Draco waiting.

* * *

Draco stood in the Great Hall, leaning against the doorway and getting slightly impatient. His talk that day with Professor McGonagall had been long and boring, and since then, he hadn't been in the best mood. She had been extremely pleased to see that he and Potter were "getting along" which, as far as he was aware, they really weren't. They had just come to an agreement. Did that constitute getting along? Draco wasn't sure. Still, she had okayed the club, and that was all that mattered.

He was nervous about the club as well, and that was putting him on edge. He had never taken anyone else there...never really taken anyone else out in general...and the fact that the first time would be Harry Potter...well, that made him a bit nervous. It just didn't feel right. True, Harry had been the one to do the actual asking, but Draco still felt as though he were taking Harry on a date, no matter how very much it was NOT a date, and it bothered him. Plus, this was his place...he had found it, he had made it his own, and though it was a good place for lessons, seeing as how it was (as far as he could tell) unknown to the wizarding world, he wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of someone else being introduced to it. He didn't think he liked it, though.

Harry came rushing into the room at top speed, and all of Draco's irritation vanished. He had never seen Harry dressed up but for at the Yule Ball, and he seemed to recall feeling similarly then. A strange tug deep in his stomach, pulling at something, some feeling he didn't recognize. Harry's hair was its usual mess, though he had obviously tried to calm it down, and the clothing...

Coming to a halt in front of Draco, Harry bent over, hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. "Sorry...I'm late..."

Draco stared. "...it's okay..." he murmured. The green shirt perfectly accentuated Harry's eyes, and the boots he was wearing were sensible but stylish. The black jeans were nicely form-fitting. Extremely form-fitting.

…..oh yeah. Draco definitely approved.

Harry looked up and saw Draco staring. "...what," he asked nervously, hoping he looked alright.

"Slytherin colors, Mr. Potter?" Draco smiled. Harry reacted with surprise. "You can't tell me you didn't notice."

"No, I never realized..."

"Perhaps I should have chosen some red and gold...don't think it would have looked as good on me as that green does on you, though..."

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco. "Um...thanks...?" He wasn't certain if Draco was teasing him or not.

"Don't mention it. It brings out your eyes. Maybe you should have been a Slytherin."

Harry laughed. "I think there's more to House choices than just fashion sense."

Draco smiled. "Touché. But there is that. We Slytherins do have amazing taste in clothing."

Harry couldn't argue with that statement, especially not with the way Draco was looking that evening. Gray dress slacks that looked so soft that Harry wanted very much to rub his cheek against them (a thought which made his stomach wobble uncomfortably), paired with a black v-neck shirt with sleeves so short they were practically non-existent.

"...aren't you going to be a little cold?" Harry asked.

"Concerned for me, Potter? How sweet. But I like the cold," Draco answered. "But never mind that...look at our clothes...black and gray...we almost match, Potter; we're like a couple! How adorable!"

Harry felt himself blush at the very idea. "If you say so, Draco."

Draco grinned at Harry's embarrassment. "Well, McGonagall said the club was okay, so we didn't get all fancied up for nothing...you ready?"

"How are we getting there?"

"Floo powder part way, then I hired a car."

Harry fumbled in his pockets. "I can give you some money for that..."

"Don't worry about it, Potter, its fine."

"No, really, I should pay for it, since you're doing me a favor..."

"Harry!" Draco's usage of his first name got Harry's attention; he froze in mid-motion. Draco gave that smile that Harry was still having trouble adjusting to seeing. "...forget about it. Honestly."

Harry sighed, shoving his money back in his pocket. "Okay...but I'm going to find a way to pay you back for this."

Draco's ears perked up at that. "Oh, I bet we could figure out a way for you to do that..." The words tumbled forth before he could stop them and he kicked himself. _No flirting with Harry Potter_ , Draco sternly told himself.

Luckily, the words seemed to have gone completely over Harry's head, those green eyes looking at Draco in confusion. "Huh?"

"Nothing." Draco coughed to cover up his words. "So...shall we?"

 **~tbc~**


	4. Chapter 4

The drive to the club was blessedly short. It had been an awkward ride. While Draco had no problem making conversation at school, when they got in the cab, he clammed right up. Harry didn't know what it was about the confined space, but something about it just shut Draco up. Maybe it was the effect of having a third person privy to their conversation, for with the cab driver there, Draco barely said a word other than to give the address of the club.

Upon arrival, Draco paid the man and handed over a hefty tip (Harry's eyes widened when he saw just how much). Draco caught the look and he frowned, brow creasing in a way that was absurdly attractive and made Harry's stomach flip-flop. "What," the blonde asked tersely.

"Nothing. That's just a lot of money."

"So?" It was clear from Draco's tone of voice that he didn't want to talk about this, so Harry wisely said nothing more. Silently, he followed Draco to the door of the club, waiting as the Slytherin knocked. Within moments the door was opened by a middle-aged woman with short dark curls and a care-worn face. She positively lit up when she saw Draco.

"Draco!" She yanked him into her arms, hugging him close. He laughed, embracing her.

"Hey, Magda. How've you been?"

Harry stood dumbfounded as he watched the exchange. This day he had seen a side of Draco he had never seen before. But this? This was something beyond anything he could ever have imagined. This Draco was happy, the smile setting his whole face aglow.

"What are you doing here?" Magda held Draco at arm's length, eyes roving over his face as if she hadn't seen him in a long time and needed to re-commit every detail to memory. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"I know, I'm sorry. I've missed you." Draco gestured to Harry. "My friend here needs some dance lessons, though. So I figured this would be a good place. Would it be okay if I gave him some one-on-one time before you open?"

Magda's attention turned to Harry for the first time since the door had opened and she took him in, assessing. He gave his best smile, and after a moment, she returned it, pulling him in for a hug of his own. "Of course you can." Releasing him, she smiled at him. "Any friend of Draco's is always welcome here."

"Thank you," Harry managed.

Magda stepped back inside, holding the door open for them. "Come in, boys, out of the cold." They followed her in, shedding their jackets as they went. "I have things to get ready still before we open, but you can have the run of the place until then. Draco, you know where everything is."

He nodded. "Thanks, Magda."

She kissed him on the cheek. "So happy to see you, hun." With that, she vanished from the room and back upstairs.

Harry looked around the club. It was completely empty, utterly silent. The room they were in was rather large, with a long gleaming bar that ran almost straight across one side of the room, a highly polished mirror shining behind it. The mirror had various scrawlings on it, signatures of some kind. A row of lustrous cups and shot glasses were lined up on shelves above the mirror, and Harry could just barely see the tops of various bottles of alcohol sticking up from their safe place behind the bar. The dance floor itself took up over half the room, the only seating available being some stools along the bar.

"Not much seating, is there?" Harry commented. "Just along the bar."

"No, there's more," Draco replied. "Over there...and there." He pointed to corners of the room to tables Harry hadn't noticed.

"Oh yeah." Harry took a good long look at the additional seating places. There were only a few, stuck away at the back of the bar in corners that were already shadowy despite the room being well lit. They looked like dark, evil meeting places, spots Voldemort would have felt at home. The idea of the Dark Lord at a dance hall amused Harry to no end.

"They look like good places for plotting," Harry commented, breaking the silence. "Good spots for planning evil deeds."

"...or _doing_ evil deeds," Draco said, a smile curving across his lips. Harry looked at Draco, puzzled, and the blonde had no qualms about elaborating. "Why do you think they're off to the sides like that?" he asked. "It's only natural to stick the tables there...dark corners...perfect place for doing... _dark deeds_."

Harry blushed at once. "Only you, Malfoy...only you would think of that."

"Obviously not," Draco said after a moment. "Clearly Magda thought so too, or it wouldn't be set up this way, would it?"

Harry sighed. "Or maybe you're just a pervert, Draco..."

"Lech," Draco interrupted, correcting Harry. "I prefer the term 'lech.'"

"Okay, you're a lech, then," Harry continued, rolling his eyes, "and maybe she intended no such thing."

"Oh, yes she did," Draco said immediately. "I know that for a fact."

"How on earth do you know that?" Harry asked, not quite believing him.  
"...because I come here all the time," Draco said after a long moment's pause. This surprised Harry, surprised him so much that he finally did what he had been avoiding doing since the beginning of this little excursion: spinning about and staring at Draco, actually staring, though before he had been unable to even look at the blonde.

This time, it was Draco who avoided looking at Harry, but instead stared off into space, eyes regarding the bar itself in a very unfocused sort of way. Finally, he seemed unable to ignore Harry's gaze any longer; he looked up at last, eyes very reluctantly turning to Harry. "... _what_?"

"...you really come in here all the time?" Harry asked, finding it hard to believe.

"Yeah...so what?" Draco sounded very defensive. Harry shook his head, shrugging.

"I don't know...it just doesn't seem like..." he shrugged helplessly, as though he didn't want to say what he had just been about to say, and wished he could swallow the words, erase them completely.

"...yes?"

"...doesn't seem like a...a boy of your...your particular...status...would..."

"...like a boy of my particular status would...what?" Draco was annoyed now, obviously angry by his wealth being brought into it. Harry made a helpless gesture with his hands, hating the fact that he had started this conversation in the first place.

"...it just doesn't seem like a boy of your status would spend all his time in some...sleazy bar and dance club," Harry finished at last, very reluctantly. Draco stared, anger plain on his face, and Harry shrank inwardly. Probably not the right words to use, especially when Draco was close with the owner. He was certain now that Draco would go back on his promise to teach Harry to dance and leave the Gryffindor boy alone in this unfamiliar town.

"Let me make a few things plain to you, Potter," Draco spoke up at last, sounding as though he were struggling to remain calm. "First of all, I am not a 'boy'...don't ever call me that again. I'm fifteen years old. Secondly, I can spend all my time wherever I damn well please. Thirdly, status has nothing whatsoever to do with it. The status belongs to my father and he can do whatever he fucking wants with it. If the status is going to interfere with my plans and with what I want to do in life, then fuck it. I don't need it, and I don't need you judging me...got it?"

Harry nodded wordlessly, feeling terrible for having brought it up. "I...I'm sorry," he managed, staring at his shoes. "I didn't mean anything by it, honestly. I just...I was wondering...why here? Why do you come here all the time?"

Draco stared at Harry, his anger ebbing away. "...I don't know," he answered quietly, though he knew perfectly well. "It's just...a good place to go, I guess. Good place to get away from it all. Good place to..." he broke off.

"...good place to what?" Harry asked curiously, nervously.

 _...to forget_ , Draco thought silently. Aloud, he merely said "...nothing." There was the briefest of pauses and then "come on," Draco said, shaking himself. "We'd best get started or we'll never get anything done."

Harry swallowed with some difficulty. "...okay," he said, kicking himself mentally when the one word came out sounding shaky. Draco walked away from Harry, across the room and dance floor, over to the bar. He stepped behind it, obviously looking for something.

"Aha..." came the sound of satisfaction. Draco fiddled with something behind the bar and seconds later, music came on. He came out from behind the bar, smiling as he met Harry's confused eyes. "...stereo," he explained.

"Oh...yes...of course," Harry felt stupid for not thinking of that. Draco was still moving, making his way onto the dance floor. Reaching it, he turned about to face Harry, his head cocking to one side in puzzlement as he noticed that Harry hadn't followed him. Deciding he should probably do just that, Harry slowly made his way to the edge of the dance floor, that shining expanse of polished wood that spanned over half the room. It had looked large before...now it looked enormous. The whole thing was like a giant universe of which Draco was the center, the light around which all other things in the universe revolved...only there was nothing else in this universe. Only Harry. And the Gryffindor boy wondered how on earth, out of everything else in this world, he was the one thing pulled into orbit.

"...coming?" Draco asked at last, amusement in his voice as he watched Harry teeter in silent deliberation just past the edge of the dance floor, as though just stepping on the wood was a danger in itself, as if from this place, there was no return.

 _If I do get pulled into orbit,_ Harry thought suddenly, wildly, _will I be able to get out again?_ The thought surprised him and he berated himself silently, not understanding just what he was so nervous about. _After all...it's_ just _a dance._

"...Potter?"

Harry shook himself out of his reverie. "Yeah," he said at last, voice catching in his throat. He coughed to clear it. "Yeah." But he still didn't move.

After a moment's disbelieving pause, Draco gave the briefest of laughs. "Honestly, Potter. You look like a five year old afraid to go in the pool!"

Harry bristled and fish-mouthed for a moment before striding towards Draco, utterly incensed but coming up with no retort sharper or more creative than "I do _not_!" He realized suddenly that without noticing, he had stepped onto that floor and he froze a few feet away from Draco, who smiled.

"There," the silvery blonde boy said with some satisfaction. "Now we can get started."

And Harry realized with a jolt of the most severe shock he had ever felt in his life that Draco had been baiting him with mocking comments to lure Harry out on the dance floor. He was unable to hide this realization; he stared at Draco, mouth agape, eyes wide and surprised. Draco chuckled, a strange little laugh nothing like his usual mocking snicker. Harry couldn't help but smile. "Jerk."

"Yup. Now come here."

Shaking his head at Draco's smile, Harry complied, moving to Draco's side. "Now," Draco began, "what I do...or really, what you'll be doing at the ball...is put your hand on her waist. She'll have her left hand on your shoulder and you'll hold her right hand in your left...think you've got that, Potter?"

"...I _think_ so," Harry said slowly, trying to take it all in. At the ball, Parvati had positioned him, so he hadn't really bothered to pay attention. And Draco had just rattled off those directions rather quickly.

Draco smiled...not a mean, mocking smile, but a soft, understanding one, a smile Harry had never seen Draco wear. "...like this," Draco said softly, right arm encircling Harry's waist, guiding Harry closer to him without actually touching the Gryffindor boy. Harry's heart was beating much faster, his pulse racing for no reason he could see. He allowed Draco to move him closer, raising a somewhat shaky hand to place it on Draco's shoulder. It was then that he could hear as well as see the hitch to Draco's breathing and the blonde immediately retreated a step or two, shaking his head.

"No, Potter," he said, his voice sounding different than Harry had ever heard it. He sounded nervous, and though he was trying to hide it, there was an unfamiliar edge to his voice. It sounded almost like...fear? But that was impossible. First of all, Draco was never afraid of anything, and he was definitely never nervous. The Slytherin always exuded confidence. So why did he now sound so frightened at the prospect of one little touch?

Harry looked questioningly at Draco. The blonde took a deep, settling breath and, when he spoke again, he sounded much calmer. "...no touching," Draco said.

Harry's puzzlement grew. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Just what I said," Draco answered. "No. Touching."

Harry's brow furrowed. "...but...why?"

There was a moment's pause...a long, dangerous pause during which the soft storm clouds in Draco's eyes froze to sheer ice, a dark, painful expression that hurt to look at.

"That is not a question I am going to answer," Draco said at last, voice icy cold. He carefully annunciated each word as though to ensure there was no dispute over them. "I said no touching, and I meant it. There will be no debate, for I will not change my mind." A moment passed during which Draco watched Harry's puzzlement growing and sought to explain further without actually explaining himself at all. "...look at it, if you like, as the price I ask for these lessons."

Harry remained silent. His puzzlement fading, he watched Draco with surprised and concerned eyes. He couldn't quite figure out what was troubling Draco, but something was very obviously wrong. He wanted to ask, but was worried that it would only anger the blonde even more. "...okay," he said slowly, "but..." Before he could really begin questioning, Draco interrupted.

"...unless, of course, you'd rather call it off." Draco's face plainly stated that he had absolutely no qualms about doing such a thing.

"Oh, no no no no," Harry said hastily. "I want to do this...but..." he hesitated, afraid to finish that sentence, afraid that if he tried to do so, Draco really _would_ call it off.

"...but?" Draco prompted, one eyebrow arched, obviously waiting for Harry to say something else sublimely stupid.

"...but how can we do this without touching?" Harry asked, cheeks going pink.

The smallest of smiles danced across Draco's lips. _...maybe not so stupid. Maybe naively charming._ "Very easily," Draco answered. He placed his right hand where it had been moments before, inches away from Harry's waist. The Gryffindor could feel a shift in the air next to him and shivered, hating himself for doing so visibly. "And..." he placed Harry's left hand inches from his own shoulder, "...and finally..." Draco raised his free hand and, swallowing nervously, Harry did the same, placing their flat-palmed hands a mere inch apart.

"Now," Draco began. "Listen to the music. Hear that beat?"

Harry squirmed inwardly, unable to hear any beat at all. Before he was forced to humiliate himself by admitting that he couldn't find the tempo, Draco, sensing the truth, spoke up.

"...right there," the blonde said. "1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3...hear it?"

Harry was almost too surprised at Draco's kindness to even listen for a beat, let alone recognize it, but he shook the feeling off and, with the help of Draco softly repeating the tempo over and over again, it was easy to find. He looked at Draco with wide-eyed surprise and an astonished smile on his face. "Yes!" he said. "I can hear it!"

Draco laughed. "Don't look so shocked, Potter," he said, smile evident even in his voice. "If you can handle Quidditch, you can handle dancing."

"I'm not so sure about that," Harry muttered. He was flushing even more than before, but was still unable to keep that small pleased smile off his face.

"Shush," Draco ordered. And Harry obeyed, because he didn't want to upset Draco again. He didn't know what that had been a moment ago, but he hadn't liked it. Whatever it was that had Draco so spooked, unwilling to touch even for something so small as a dance…..it couldn't be anything good. No, Harry would wager it was something very bad indeed. And McGonagall's words of earlier came back to him. She had called him prejudiced towards Draco. Now, for the first time, he wondered if that were so. He had always assumed Draco was just a spoiled little rich boy. But what if there was more to him? What if Draco was so mean because he was lashing out? What if his home life was as bad as Harry's own? Harry's thoughts immediately went to Lucius Malfoy and he shuddered inwardly. Yes, it didn't take any great leap of the imagination to picture Draco coming from a bad home. Lucius bullied Draco horribly in public; Harry dreaded to think what he did to the boy at home. And his heart sank as he realized that McGonagall was right all along. He was prejudiced.

"Harry?"

The boy snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Draco's voice. "Yes?"

Those gray eyes were amused. "You still with me?"

"Ah…yes. Sorry." Harry looked into Draco's eyes, trying to see past them, to read the story there, but all emotion was carefully locked down. Draco had some walls up, that was for damn sure.

Well, one thing was for certain. From here on out, Harry would do better.

He gave his word.

 **~tbc~**


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay," Draco began, seemingly satisfied that he had Harry's full attention once more, "on each one of those beats there's a step."

"Okay," Harry said doubtfully. It all seemed fairly familiar….after all, he had danced with Parvati last year, but it had only been one dance, and she had definitely been the one leading. This year, he had to do better.

"The waltz is a three-step, with a rise and fall motion. On your first step, you put your weight down on—" Draco's voice died away; he bit his lip. "Here," And he stepped back, putting some distance between himself and Harry. "Let me demonstrate. It'll be easier that way."

Harry watched as Draco raised his arms into position as though he had a partner. Those beautiful eyes slipped shut for a moment in concentration and he took a calming breath. Then, he moved.

McGonagall had been right: Draco was a wonderful dancer. His movements were fluid, graceful. Each step flowed into the next, a beautiful gliding movement like none Harry had ever seen before.

He was captivated. It took several moments before he remembered that he was supposed to be paying attention to the steps themselves, not simply watching. He shook himself with some difficulty and focused on Draco's feet, the way the steps matched up with the beat.

"You see?"

Not taking his eyes off of Draco's movements, Harry nodded. "I think so."

"Good." Draco ceased dancing and returned to Harry's side. "Of course, you won't be doing that right away."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, if I'm going to be teaching you, I'm going to be dancing that part. You'll take the girl's role."

Harry felt shock hit him. "But….why? I mean, if you don't let me dance the boy's role, how am I supposed to learn it?"

"Crawl first, walk later, Potter," Draco said smoothly. The silky tone to his voice did absolutely nothing to soften Harry's temper.

"That's totally not fair, Draco!" he said hotly. "I didn't ask you to teach me to dance so that I could waltz girlily about the dance floor!" But here Draco interrupted with a derisive snort.

"Tch, of course you didn't, Potter," he said with the faintest of amused smirks. "Why on earth would you? You don't need my help to do that."

"...do what?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Waltz like a girl."

Harry's face burned and he knew he must be bright red. "You know what, Draco? Fuck you. Fuck _you_. I don't need this."

"...then why did you ask me to come here?" Draco asked, one slim artistic brow arched in veiled curiosity. "You must have known I would be a pain in the ass...I usually am. So why did you ask me for lessons?"

"Because McGonagall told me I had to!" Harry snapped without thinking. He was surprised to see that taken aback look on Draco's face, surprised that his words would get a reaction out of Draco other than pure resentment.

"...oh," Draco said a moment later, sounding every bit as taken aback as he looked.

"What?" Harry asked warily, guardedly. He was just waiting for Draco to insult him again. However, the insult didn't come.

Instead came Draco's voice, a perfect deadpan as he answered "...I was rather hoping you just enjoyed my company and wanted yet another excuse to bask in the sparkling presence that is me."

...there was a moment's disbelieving silence before Harry found the ability to speak. "...you must be joking," he said.

Draco shrugged. "Was worth a shot."

A mere matter of seconds went by before Harry burst into surprised and delighted laughter.

"See?" Draco pointed a smugly accusatory finger at Harry. "You _do_ think I'm charming! Admit it!"

Harry's laughter died down, then stopped completely. He stared at Draco, struggling to even his breathing. "...I think you _could_ be," he answered at last. "If you really wanted to."

Draco grinned. "Wow...that's a much more positive answer than I ever thought I'd get from you, Potter." He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, ignoring Harry's blush and resuming his dancing posture. "...you ready to try this again?"

Harry stared at the Slytherin, all humor dying away, the blush forgotten. "...Draco, we can't do this."

"What?!" Draco looked beyond surprised, he looked downright shocked. "Why not? What's the problem _now_?"

Harry couldn't think of a way to put his feelings into words. It sounded so stupid, so ludicrous. "...the problem..." He finally decided to just have out with it. "...the problem is it's us!" Seeing Draco's uncomprehending surprise, Harry shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. "We've been here for what...half an hour? And we've already gotten in how many fights?" He laughed helplessly. "We haven't even started dancing yet!"

Draco was silent, standing there unmoving, watching as Harry continued to rant and rave. On some level, he guessed that the other boy was extremely right. They were sworn enemies, had been so since their first day at Hogwarts their first year...but he wouldn't think about that, he told himself, as a hidden dull aching in his chest grew stronger. He had no clue how long it would take them to make it through this lesson (especially at the rate they were going). All he knew was that inside some closed, locked-off part of him that he usually ignored (quite possibly the same part that harbored that hidden ache), he didn't want to see Harry go.

Draco blinked at that sudden realization. He didn't want Harry to leave. When the hell did _that_ happen? Even more startling was the realization that he never really wanted Harry to leave. Even if it was only to taunt and mock the Gryffindor boy even further, Draco always wanted Harry to stick around. He immediately pushed these thoughts down inside him.

Not wanting the other boy to go but unwilling to admit it, Draco instead opted to do nothing. He stood there silently as his emotions raged inside him, each one fighting for supremacy, and his blonde head tilted to one side...the better to watch Harry rant.

The Gryffindor was still going strong, all memory of his oath to do better by Draco completely forgotten in his fit of frustration. "...can't believe McGonagall would ask this of me! I should have refused to do this in the first place! I should have known that..." but he kept catching glimpses of the Slytherin boy out of the corner of his eye and it was making it increasingly difficult for him to function properly.

Draco was doing that thing again. Harry had no clue how the blonde did it. One second he'd look as real as can be, a living breathing human being, and the next, a split second passed and poof! Frozen in place, unmoving, like a beautiful oil painting. Harry, not realizing he was staring, made a valiant attempt to continue where he had left off. "...that...that we would..." he gave up, his concentration completely destroyed and his frustration bursting to the surface. "...would you stop _**doing**_ that?!"

Draco remained as he was, moving nothing but his lips as he asked "...doing _what_?" His voice was innocently curious, if a bit breathy. Harry staring at him for such a prolonged amount of time had caused Draco's heart to race, a fact the blonde was trying desperately to ignore.

"You know perfectly _well_ 'what," Harry answered crossly. "The oil painting thing. You're doing it again."

That caused a bit more movement. Draco's nose wrinkled up in puzzlement in a way that had in the past caused more than one girl's heart to race. It had a fairly similar reaction on Harry, but he didn't have time to think about it. "...oil painting thing?" Draco echoed. Slowly, a dazzling smile spread across his face. " _Oil_ _ **painting**_ _ **thing**_ **?** "

"...yes," Harry replied, only vaguely defensive, too distracted was he by that smile. It honestly wasn't something he was used to Draco wearing, seeing as the Slytherin rarely smiled and, when he did, it wasn't honest and open and truly amused, like this one. He'd seen a fair few smiles out of Draco today, but none so blinding as this one.

"...and what, pray tell, is 'the oil painting thing'?" Draco asked, still grinning. "By all means, Potter...enlighten me."

Harry tried to shake up some hostility, a bit of irritation, any sort of antagonistic emotion he could muster...but no, nothing. That smile really _was_ very distracting. "It...it's just...you..." he sighed, giving up. Draco was just standing there, perfectly still and unmoving, that incredible smile on his face. _Distracting._

"...any time now, Potter," Draco said, amused smile still in place and a teasing tone to his voice. "Aaaaaaany time."

"Shut up," Harry ordered, but he didn't sound angry when he said it and was surprised to discover that he honestly didn't feel angry at all.

" _What_?" Draco demanded, laughing now. "You can't even get out a full sentence!"

"Hey, I can't help it!" Harry shot back defensively. "You're very distracting!"

Draco's eyebrows shot up nearly into his hairline and, if possible, that grin doubled in size and appeal. Now the blonde was even more engrossing. "Distracting?" Draco echoed, barely able to contain the smile which was quickly threatening to take over his entire face. "You find me _distracting_ , Potter?"

Harry found himself blushing against his will. He hadn't quite realized before just how that could be taken. "...did I say that?" he asked weakly.

The grin was now a bit of a smirk. "Yes," Draco said with barely subdued glee, "you _did_."

"...oh." And still Harry didn't explain, simply stood there silently, fingers fiddling with the bottom of his t-shirt. Draco let it pass for a moment or two, waiting for an answer that didn't come.

"And...which part of me... _exactly_...do you find distracting?" For some reason that Draco couldn't quite grasp, his heart was beating just a bit faster than usual.

"...um...I... Harry paused, a look of weak protest on his face as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say. "….can't I just finish explaining the oil painting thing?"

Oh yes. Draco had nearly forgotten that. "...alright," he said finally. "But I want an answer to this distraction question before this dancing escapade is done. Think about it," he stated loudly as Harry tried to protest, "...think about it. And get back to me...later tonight."

Harry didn't like that idea at all, but he knew how stubborn Draco could be and knew there was no other way he could end this uncomfortable conversation but to agree. "...okay," he said at last.

There was another long silence as Harry stared at his feet and Draco watched the other boy blush. There was an idea tickling at the Slytherin's brain, a dawning realization of a thought he had never thought before, an idea that he told himself was ridiculous, impossible. But everything he saw before him fought with him and confirmed the idea. Well, the idea _s_...for there were two thoughts now racing through Draco's mind in never-ending, dizzying circles.

Draco really _really_ liked making Harry blush. That part wasn't so surprising; Draco's every mission in life seemed to be embarrassing or humiliating the Gryffindor boy. The _really_ surprising part was that neither embarrassment nor humiliation was on his mind. Draco's enjoyment in Harry's blush didn't come from nefarious purposes. He had no two-faced designs on ruining Harry's life. It was nothing like that.

...Harry looked absolutely _beautiful_ when he blushed.

As soon as Draco realized this was what he was truly thinking, he felt as though a herd of fire weasels was parading through his stomach (it had happened once, a weird spell gone wrong, and it hadn't felt very nice)...or maybe like a penguin had suddenly appeared, stolen Draco's pants, and run off (this had not happened yet, but he was sure it was inevitable). He tried to force the feeling away, but it pushed resiliently forward against his brain, sending jittery warmth flooding through his entire body. Harry stood there, brilliant green eyes half lidded and averted, staring at the floor as those cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment or some emotion that Draco couldn't place, some emotion that led him right back to that second idea he'd had, some emotion that looked a lot like...

...love?

No, it couldn't be. Draco felt more astonished than ever at this thought. Harry Potter, in love with him? It was impossible. Or before today he would have thought it so. But before today he would have thought it impossible for him to find Harry Potter beautiful...

...but he didn't. Not at all. Draco still rebelled furiously against that thought, but it just wouldn't die. It couldn't be real...he couldn't be in love with Harry Potter...not Harry Potter...he may like boys but definitely not haughty Gryffindors...and then he realized that the words 'in love' had somehow come into it when he hadn't intended it to happen.

"SO," he began, wincing inwardly at how abrupt and forced and even (he hated to admit it) squeaky his voice had sounded. He cleared his throat. "So," he said, much better this time, much more calmly. "About that...oil painting thing."

Harry's cheeks went even pinker, if that was possible, and Draco had to bite his lip to hold back the sigh. _Delicious._ Those green eyes remained locked on the floor. "Well...it's just...this...thing..."

"...yes?"

Harry sighed. Draco was obviously not going to make this easy for him. There was no way out. The Slytherin wanted an answer and Harry would have to supply one. "...well...it's like..." he paused, fishing for words.

"...yes?"

"I'm THINKING!" Harry snapped. There was a long silence. He sighed again. "It's like one moment, you're here. You're with me. A normal, living, breathing, fighting, fucking human being. And then the next..."

"...fucking?" Draco echoed, interrupting.

Harry glanced up at him finally. "...what, you don't fuck?" he inquired sarcastically.

Draco blinked. "No, I didn't say that...it actually happens to be one of the things I'm better at." With those words, a warmth flared up in Draco's eyes, a warmth that had nothing to do with anger or annoyance or anything else Harry had seen there before. A warmth that promised heat and wet and slick and pain, oh _God_ yes, but delicious pain. And of course sex...lots of sex.

And Harry blushed vermillion red and couldn't hold Draco's gaze any longer. Eyes fixed firmly on the floor, he took a deep breath to continue. "It's just...one minute, you're here, and you're alive, and...I can _see_ that you're alive...and then, the next minute...it's like you've checked out. Zoned out. Something crazy, I don't know how to describe it. You're still alive, you're still breathing, you're still..."

"...fucking?" Draco interrupted, amusement plain in his voice. Harry shut his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the heat rising in his body, and pressed on.

"...you're still here...but you're not. I can see you, I can see you breathing and living and yet...it's like you're somewhere else. You look so perfect, so still, just like an..."

"...oil painting," Draco finished for him, nodding that silvery-blonde head. "I get it."

"Good." Harry shut his eyes again, taking a deep breath and raising his head. Draco could see Harry's face once again, see that pink blush. Lord, he was beautiful. Draco's own eyes shut tightly and he bit his lip harder than before, this time tasting the metallic tang of blood. "Malfoy? What're you...stop it!" Harry had finally opened his eyes and had seen Draco biting his lip, seen the tiny drop of blood appear. Draco hadn't even the time to react before he felt Quidditch-callused fingers taking a gentle but firm hold on his chin. Silver-gray eyes flew open then and he came face to face with Harry Potter. The Gryffindor stood mere inches away, one hand holding Draco's chin as he studied the bleeding lip. "What on earth did you do this for," Harry murmured, asking himself more than Draco. Harry's brow was furrowed as he studied the cut. His free hand came suddenly into view, reaching for Draco; then, he paused. Green eyes locked with gray. "...do you mind?" he asked.

Draco, his heart pounding fiercely, found himself completely incapable of speaking. Indeed, for a few moments, he found himself unable to respond at all. Finally, kicking himself inwardly, he forced an answer out, shaking his head suddenly, swiftly, jerkily 'no.'

As those roughly soft fingers traced across the bleeding lower lip, Draco felt like he was going to explode into a million tiny pieces. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. His heart was going a mile a minute, his skin felt too hot and too small for his body, his temperature must be in the hundreds. He couldn't explain to himself _why_ he felt this way, he could only know that he _did_. He tried to ignore it but he couldn't.

Harry traced his fingers carefully and gently across Draco's mouth, feeling his own heart pounding away so loudly he was sure the Slytherin could hear it. He told himself firmly that this was completely normal, that he was just a concerned friend...but he and Draco had never been anything that could ever be considered 'friends' and there was no fooling himself. He would never have done this with Ron. He would have been concerned, yes, but Hermione would have been the one doing the touching, and rightly so. Touching Ron? The idea was utterly bizarre. But...why would that be? Why would he be able to touch Draco, who he had always hated and who had always hated him, and unable to touch Ron, his best friend? It was a question, alright, but one to be puzzled out later...when he didn't have his fingers practically in Draco's mouth.

...Draco was dying. He was just dying. He was about to keel over and fall down dead and there was just nothing for it. At least he'd die happy...with Harry Potter mere inches away, gently running his fingertips over Draco's mouth. And why should that make Draco happy? To be completely honest, Draco didn't know. He had been with many people in his life, countless numbers of people, and he had never felt this...this...whatever it was. Harry's fingers continued that silentgentle movement and that was it, that was just plain it. It was over. Draco was going to do it and there was no helping it, it was just inevitable.

Harry's fingers traced once more across Draco's mouth, just barely reaching the left corner when Draco's tongue flicked out, brushing up against Harry's fingers so quickly that nothing but the slight moisture left behind would have proven it had happened at all.

Harry froze, fingers still touching Draco's mouth, staring at the other boy in shock. Draco stared back, his own eyes equally wide, equally shocked at his own actions. The two stared at each other. The room was silent.

 _Bloody hell,_ Draco thought, wide gray eyes staring at Harry. The brunette wore an identical look of astonishment. _Potter looks almost as surprised as I feel...bloody hell._

It was Harry who broke the silence some moments later. "Draco," he managed. "Why..." there was a long pause. Harry swallowed, his throat and mouth feeling very dry. "...why did you do that?"

Draco stared back, the same cottonmouth feeling affecting him as well. "...would an 'I have no clue' suffice?" he asked.

Harry's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Er, nothing." Draco nearly smiled at that. Harry looked so adorably confused...no, not at all. He kicked himself inwardly. _Must not fantasize about Potter, must not, must not, must..._ "So," he said aloud, shaking his head to rid himself of those horrific thoughts, blonde hair flying in a most becoming way. "...shall we?"

"...shall we what?" Harry stared in wide eyed confusion for a few moments before noticing that Draco was gesturing to the dance floor. _Oh. Dance. Right._ He flushed bright red again. He had been thinking something much different.

"Well?" Draco was really _really_ hoping that Harry would just come and dance and forget about the whole thing. Unfortunately, that didn't seem likely to happen. Harry shook his head, the brown hair (already in a state of disarray) getting even more messy.

"No, wait a minute, Draco...why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Draco asked innocently.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't play games, Draco...you know what I mean. You just..." he had difficulty saying the words. "...licked...blood...off my fingers. Why did you do it?"

"Um...I was hungry?" Draco suggested hopefully.

Harry nearly burst out laughing at that, but he bit it back and somehow forced the expression into a glare. "Draco, be serious."

"I _am!_ " Draco insisted. "I love blood!"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Do you," he asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Oh, totally." Draco ran his tongue across his lower lip, eyes going half-lidded and lips parted as he allowed a look of delicious pleasure to spread across his face. "Mmmmmm, heavenly."

Harry could barely control his laughter now, and he knew he was flushing at the sight of Draco enjoying himself so thoroughly. He watched dazedly. Draco stared at Harry for a moment, watching the Gryffindor blush. Then, Draco waggled his eyebrows up and down. "...yummy!"

That was it. Laugher burst unchecked past Harry's lips, loud and delighted and long. He could barely breathe and there was just no controlling it. He glanced up at Draco, expecting to see some look of exasperation on that usually haughty face. Instead, he saw Draco smiling...smiling! It started as just a slight curving at the corners of the Slytherin's mouth, then his face melted into a full out smile, soft and thorough and real, a true smile. Draco was eyeing the other boy with a look of almost...affection. The laughter died on Harry's lips as he saw that warm look in Draco's usually icy gray eyes. Silently, he stared at Draco, smile on his face as he struggled to get a decent breath of air.

Draco smiled in return. "...come on, Potter," he said softly. "It's time to get started."

The smile on Harry's face wilted immediately. "...erm...is it really?" There was a bright and cheery but surprised sort of tone to his voice, a tone that sounded utterly fake.

"...yes," Draco said, arching an eyebrow at Harry, "it is. Unless of course you'd rather call it off...?"

"No!" Harry answered immediately, eyes wide with horror. "Not at all!"

Draco smiled. "Then come here." Swallowing with difficulty, Harry straightened up all the way and, after a moment of tense silence, stepped forward until he was mere inches away from Draco. He raised his right hand and held it one tiny inch from the blonde's shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he raised his other hand and held it, palm flat, right where Draco's own hand would be. He shut his eyes tightly, waiting.

After a moment of watching his partner, Draco slid one arm around Harry's waist without actually touching the other boy. Harry, his eyes still closed, felt the brush of air past his waist as Draco moved and felt as if he were going to pass out. He waited for Draco to place his own hand palm flat about an inch from Harry's, but then nothing happened. There was silence. Harry opened his eyes and saw Draco closely examining Harry's hand. Gray eyes glanced his way, filled with a look that Harry couldn't quite figure out. "Your hand is shaking."

Harry focused his attention on his own hand and saw that Draco was completely right. He flushed.

"Are you feeling alright?" Draco asked, concern in his voice.

With some difficulty, Harry forced a nod. "Yes. I'm fine, of course I'm fine."

Draco watched Harry for a long moment with a calculating look in his eyes. "...you're sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Harry answered immediately. "Yes, I am."

There was another long pause during which Draco studied Harry carefully. Then: "...okay." Draco placed his own hand flat palmed just opposite Harry's. As he did so, the tip of his ring finger brushed gently up against Harry's hand and the Gryffindor, despite his best efforts not to, let out a small and extremely muffled whimper, a sound that would never have been heard anywhere else, but in the large, silent bar, it was deafening.

Harry's eyes were shut again. He couldn't look, couldn't check to see what Draco's reaction was to that. The tips of his ears were burning in humiliation.

Draco was silent, staring at Harry's shaking hand. He swallowed, gaze slowly shifting over and locking on to Harry's face, seeing the closed eyes, the flushed cheeks. Draco glanced back over at where their hands were close, so very close. His own hand began to shake as well. A sudden impulse struck him, a crazy ridiculous urge to reach out and touch Harry. He fought against it mentally, bit his lip as hard as he could, but it was no use. Reaching out, Draco closed the mere millimeters of distance between them and ran one fingertip down Harry's hand. His shaking middle finger traced gently and slowly down the brunette's own and into the slight soft slope of Harry's palm.

Harry's eyes flew open and he stared at Draco with parted lips and wide green eyes. Draco tried with all he could to smile, but it really wasn't working, and after a few moments he gave up. He simply stared at Harry, lips pursed into what he hoped at least resembled a smile, while inwardly cursing himself for his incompetence.

Draco was in luck. While the look on his face was something that would never normally have passed for a smile, it was more of a smile than Harry was used to seeing Draco wear.

"...ready?" Draco asked. Harry's heart pounded dully against his chest, he was finding it difficult to breathe. He knew in his heart that the only answer to that question could be nothing but 'no';

"...yes." Harry immediately began berating himself silently.

"Good." Draco looked into those deep green eyes. They looked strangely nervous, and it was about more than just the dancing. Draco felt it too, a fluttering in his stomach, tension in the air between them. He took a deep breath, and smiled. "Then let's begin."

 **~tbc~**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: There's a quote at the beginning of the chapter which is highly referential to the film of 'Mansfield Park'. I couldn't resist.

* * *

"So," Draco began. He was determined to put the events of the past few minutes behind them and focus completely on dancing. "You remember what I just showed you?"

"Yes." It had only been a brief demonstration but Harry thought he had a fairly good grip on the basics. "But I thought you were going to have me dance the girl's part?"

Draco shrugged. "I decided to take pity on you."

Harry grinned. "Awfully nice of you, Draco."

The blonde noted Harry's use of his first name. Wasn't _this_ a night of firsts. "I can be a gentleman sometimes."

"And you know the girl's part?"

A nod. "I've been taking dance lessons since I was eight." The expression on his face was rueful. Harry winced sympathetically.

"Sounds fun."

"Oh, totally." But though Draco didn't look upset, there was still something in his manner that suggested that he didn't really want to discuss his past. Harry wisely didn't pry.

"Well, you're damn good."

"Oh, a compliment? Stars above, he complimented me!"

Harry laughed. "I complimented your dancing, Malfoy, don't get your knickers in a twist."

Draco grinned. "Enough talk, Potter. Let's dance."

"Okay." The brunette took a deep breath and, hesitantly, stepped forward. Draco moved with him, gliding easily into the female's role, letting Harry guide him through the steps of the waltz. Harry immediately tripped over his feet, unsure, but Draco didn't mock him as he had expected; no, he simply offered up encouraging instructions.

"That's right….to the side. No, your other side."

Harry promptly stepped on Draco's foot. "Oh my God, I'm sorry!"

Amazingly, Draco only laughed. "I've had worse."

Harry couldn't believe the reaction. Messing up was one thing, but for Draco to not yell at Harry for stepping on him? That was beyond shocking. Then he had a horrible thought: what had Lucius done when Draco had messed up?

Draco's brow creased in a frown. "You okay?"

The Gryffindor forced a nod and a smile. "Fine."

"Good. Then keep going."

It was a very awkward waltz, the steps clumsy and hesitant, but it was a waltz nonetheless. Draco continued to offer soft corrections and encouragements. It was a completely different experience than the one Harry had expected, full of mockery. This lesson was completely genial. No, it was better than that. This was FUN.

Very quickly, Harry began to get the hang of things. It got a little more complicated after that, with Draco beginning to teach Harry how to not just step in place, but to move as he stepped, to move in little circles as the waltz was meant to be done. But after learning the basic box step itself, moving it in circles wasn't hard at all.

"Not bad." Draco was smiling. "Spin me, Harry."

Harry stared. "…. _what?_ "

The blonde rolled his eyes and, taking one of Harry's hands (after all this time of not touching, the contact shocked the Gryffindor) and ducked under it, twirling in a circle before releasing it and stepping in close again. Harry was momentarily too stunned to do a thing. "Like that. That's a spin. Now we pick up where we left off and dance like before."

"I…." Harry was dumfounded. "…okay."

"God, Potter, what's so difficult about this?"

Harry managed to shake his head. "Nothing, it's just…" He grinned. "Something about you twirling is really funny."

Draco rolled his eyes again but he was clearly trying to suppress a smile. "Mature, Potter. Real mature."

"Mm. I am the epitome of mature."

Biting back what might have been a laugh, Draco shook his head. "Stuff it, Potter." Harry couldn't help but laugh at the words. "Now let's try it again." The two fell into the waltz with ease and this time, Harry initiated the touch, taking Draco's hand. Draco still twitched slightly at the contact but he let Harry twirl him. At the end of the spin, he stepped right back into position, and they glided once more into the waltz.

Those grey eyes looked immensely pleased. "Great job."

Harry felt extremely proud of his success. Maybe this ball wouldn't be so bad after all. True, Harry would much rather not dance in front of an entire room full of people. It was much more fun dancing like this, with only Draco.

The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water. Dancing with Draco was fun. How the hell had _that_ happened? He didn't want to open the ball with Draco!

Not like he could take Draco, anyway. What would people _say?_

Holy shit, what was he even _thinking?_ He wouldn't take Draco if he could! He would take someone like Ginny!

Harry felt a tiny swat to the side of his face. Draco had noticed his preoccupation. "Hey, pay attention, Potter. You almost tripped just now."

"Sorry."

"You'd been doing so well, too."

Harry smiled, pleased. "Really?"

Draco returned the smile. "Yeah. You're starting to get pretty good at this."

Harry flushed happily, pleased at the words. "Yeah?"

"Definitely." Draco guided Harry through another twirl. "And now, into a tango. Please throw your leg over my hip."

"WHAT?!" Harry would have been horrified at the way that one word came out in a halting, high-pitched squeak had he not been so shocked already.

Draco grinned. "Just kidding, Potter."

"Oh." Harry's shoulders sagged a bit at this news, though whether out of relief or disappointment he couldn't tell (and was afraid to even think about). His heart was trying to pound a hole through his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe. The mere thought of being that close to Draco had him unable to think straight. He wanted it but he didn't, he shouldn't want it and yet he couldn't _not_ want it. Being so deliciously close, their bodies rubbing together, so hot oh _GOD_ so hot, and yet he was afraid of the feelings that would appear if it happened. Still, he couldn't help a glare. "Bastard."

Draco laughed. "You're just too much fun to tease."

"I'm going to get you, you just wait."

"Mm…" Draco looked at Harry from beneath his lashes, and fuck, it suddenly felt about ten degrees warmer in there. "Please do."

This time, Harry actually DID trip, mouth open as he stared at Draco. There was no mistaking the look in those eyes. But Draco must be teasing, he had to be.

A sudden noise behind them interrupted the moment and both boys turned to face the doorway. Magda had returned. "How are you boys coming along?"

"Great, thanks." Draco stepped away from Harry, leaving the brunette feeling empty. Had he just imagined that encounter?

"Good. Well, the bar will be opening in a few minutes, so I'm afraid I have to cut your practice off."

"It's okay. Thanks for letting us use the space at all. Besides," and Draco glanced at Harry with something almost like pride in his eyes. "He's doing great." The words made Harry blush.

"Will you boys be staying?"

Harry opened his mouth to say that no, they would be heading back to school, but the expression on Draco's face stopped him. "How about it, Harry? You want to stay for a bit?"

It was clear that Draco wanted to stick around. He had told Harry that he came here often, and when they first arrived, Magda had said it had been a long time since he had been there. And after all Draco had done for Harry tonight? There was no way Harry was going to deny him.

He nodded. "Yeah. Let's stay." The look in those grey eyes told him he had made the right choice. They filled with happiness, a smile spreading across Draco's face.

Magda nodded. "I'm off to open up." And she vanished from the room.

"Thanks, Harry," Draco said softly.

Harry shook his head. "You don't have to thank me. You helped me so much tonight. I'm the one who should be thanking you. Besides," he looked around the bar. "We can probably get in some more practice, yeah?"

Draco stared at Harry. "….Harry, what kind of club do you think this _is?_ " Harry cocked his head, clearly not understanding. "There's no _way_ there will be any kind of music we can waltz to here. It's all club music."

Club music…..

OH.

Harry swallowed. He hadn't thought about that, hadn't realized what he was getting himself into when he had agreed to this. "Ah."

"Yeah."

Then something else occurred to him. "You…." Harry began disbelievingly, a huge grin spreading over his face. "You can fast dance? Since when?!"

Draco arched one eyebrow. "I've got moves you've never seen," he drawled. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Draco began moonwalking across the dance floor, and Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Oh my God. Oh my God, I can't even."

"Shut up, Harry, you're just jealous."

"Oh, I am. You hit the nail on the head."

Draco opened his mouth to retort but people had begun pouring into the room. Magda had opened the doors to the club. Any and all private conversation was done for the night, unless they removed themselves to one of the aforementioned darkened corners.

Actually, that was sounding more and more tempting by the moment.

Harry was looking at all the people, examining faces. "Draco," he whispered, sidling closer. "This isn't a wizard's club, is it?"

Draco relished the newfound proximity. "No." He made his voice extremely low so that Harry had to lean in even closer to hear him, their faces nearly touching. Oh yes, that was lovely. "So far as I've been able to tell, I'm the only one who comes here. At least, I've never seen another witch or wizard here in all the times I've come, and that's a lot."

"Good."

The music kicked in suddenly, loud, blasting rock music. Draco was pleased, not just because he loved the house music and was looking forward to dancing, but because it meant Harry was going to have to remain close if he wanted to be heard.

"Come on," he said, reaching for Harry before catching himself and pulling away. The movement did not go unnoticed by the brunette. "Let's head to the bar."

"The bar?" Harry looked skeptical. "Do you really think you'll get served?"

Draco shrugged. "Probably not. But it's always worth a shot."

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry followed Draco to the bar. Magda herself was serving, and she rolled her eyes when she saw Draco. "For the last time, Draco, I am not serving you alcohol."

"Oh, come on, Magda, darling," Draco wheedled. She simply shook her head.

"No."

Draco gave his best pout. It was ridiculously attractive. Pouts shouldn't be attractive. "You're so cruel." He was flirting shamelessly, and the older woman could obviously tell. From the look on her face, this was an act Draco had pulled many times in the past.

"Yes, I'm horrible." Magda slid a glass towards him. "There. You can have a mock-tail."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Mock-tail?" he echoed.

"A mock-cocktail," Draco explained. "Tastes similar but has no alcohol in it." He raised the glass towards Magda and then Harry in a miniature salute. "Cheers."

Harry found a glass being pushed his way as well. "You can have one, too." Magda smiled at him. "On the house."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," and he began fumbling in his pockets for cash, but the woman shook her head.

"Any friend of Draco's is welcome to at least one. And it's been so long since I've seen this one," she tossed a fake glare Draco's way, "that it calls for a celebration."

"I'm sorry!" Draco protested. "I haven't had a chance!"

But the woman merely laughed. "Don't worry about it, love. Just…try to come more often? I do miss you."

The Slytherin smiled somewhat sadly. "I miss you, too."

"Glad to hear it. Now, I've got other customers to attend to." The woman gave the boys a little wave of her arms, as if shooing them away. "Go, have fun! Dance!" And she headed off to see to some other patrons.

Harry sipped at his mock-tail. He had to admit, it was very good. After a moment, he realized that Draco was watching him with a smile. "….what?"

The blonde shook his head. "Nothing. Are you going to dance?"

Harry looked at the dance floor, already full of people. What he saw made him feel lightheaded and weak in the knees. The other dancers were moving like a single mass, a solid knot. Wet, smooth, sexual.

"Ah….I don't think so." There was no _way_ he could do that, no way at all. Was _Draco_ going to do that? A mental image of Draco moving that way hit him with all the force of a brick wall and he felt faint.

Draco looked disappointed but he shrugged, forcing an air of uncaring. "Suit yourself." And, throwing back the rest of his drink, he slid from his stool. "I'll see you in a little bit, then, yeah?" With that, he headed to the dance floor.

The brunette watched, waiting. Draco's beautiful eyes slid shut and then, he began to move.

Harry's jaw dropped; he stared. All day he had seen various facets of Draco that he had never seen before. He had come to realize that Draco was kind, and funny, and could even be sweet. But this? This he had not expected. Watching Draco dance now…

Draco was pure sex in motion.

This was completely different from the graceful way the blonde had waltzed. Draco's body still moved fluidly in rhythm with the music, but now it was rough, sexual. His hands roved over his body, head tossing. His hair was a mess, flying about him as he moved.

And just like that, Harry no longer wanted. He _needed_.

Without really registering what he was doing, Harry was slipping off his barstool and heading onto the dance floor, no hesitation as earlier that evening, making his way straight to Draco's side. As though sensing Harry's presence, Draco turned that silvery gaze in the brunette's direction. He looked surprised. "Harry…"

Harry found his mouth incredibly dry. "….do you want to dance?"

If Draco had looked surprised before, it was nothing on how he looked now. "You….really?"

Harry nodded. "Really."

The surprise faded from Draco's eyes, replaced by a soft smile. He gave a little jerk of his chin, gesturing Harry closer. Somehow, Harry managed to hear him over the blasting music of the club as he softly ordered "c'mere." And that's when Harry began having second thoughts.

"...really? I mean, do you really want to? Are you sure we should-"

"Come on, Potter. Its time to show you what I've got."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that, though his heart was pounding and he felt dizzier than before. _I am about to fast dance with Draco Malfoy. I am about to fast dance with Draco Malfoy._

Harry swallowed with some difficulty and wiped his palms on his thighs. Taking as deep a breath as he could muster, he reached for Draco. The blonde didn't move away, but shook his head, small smile on his face. "No touching."

Harry's eyes widened. "...but...but then how do we...?"

If possible, that smile grew a bit more seductive, turning into a smirk. "...use your imagination."

It was as if the two of them were in their own world. Everything around them seemed muffled. Harry gave a tiny smile and stepped closer to Draco. He slipped an arm around Draco's waist the same as in the waltz, not touching, and looked to the boy, a question in his eyes. Draco swallowed with difficulty, and nodded. Then the two began to move.

It was a strange imitation of the dancing all around them. All the movement was the same, only not quite close enough to touch. Then Harry dared to step a little closer, one leg between Draco's, and their bodies brushed ever so slightly. He felt rather than heard Draco gasp. But the boy didn't pull away. Harry decided to see how much farther he could push things.

His arm still around Draco's waist, he let it slip, fingertips brushing ever so slightly against Draco's lower back. This time, grey eyes looked wildly up at Harry. Immediately, he withdrew, breaking the touch. Draco relaxed but he didn't pull away; his breath was coming heavily.

Harry didn't break eye contact, simply looked into Draco's eyes, willing Draco to trust him. Slowly, the boy seemed to calm. Then, impossibly, it was Draco who pushed, leaning even further forwards, and Harry felt Draco's groin against his thigh as the boy stepped even closer, grinding against him.

Harry gasped. Draco's eyes were wide as if shocked at his own actions. Harry was stunned. He had barely ever slow danced before….this was like nothing he had ever experienced.

Harry dared to move his hand closer, trying to touch Draco again, but the boy shied away. That was still too much. He settled for slipping his fingers into one of Draco's belt loops. Draco allowed it, calming once more. Harry's leg was still between Draco's, the blonde leaning in to him. Tentatively, he pushed back. Draco bit his lip, clearly holding back a whimper. Oh yes, that was lovely. It was barely a touch, but the fact that Draco trusted him with even this much was amazing. And it felt better than it had any right to.

Then Harry felt those graceful hands at his waist, catching the bottom of his button-down. They twisted in the fabric, clutching handfuls and pulling Harry even closer, reeling him in until their chests were nearly touching. He could feel the heat radiating off of the Slytherin. But the boy was no longer looking at him, his face buried in the curve of Harry's throat. Harry could feel warm breath ghosting over his flesh. " _Draco_ ," he managed.

What he got in response were hips rubbing against his thigh, hard and insistent, and was that—no, it couldn't be—yes, it was. Draco was hard. Harry felt dizzy at the realization. Draco _wanted_ him. Fuck the belt loops; both hands clutched the waistband of Draco's pants, searching for something that would ground him but still not scare Draco off. Apparently he had chosen right, for the Slytherin didn't shy away.

And suddenly there was Draco's breath, warm against Harry's ear as he whispered "so...mind if I whisk you away to a dark corner, Harry?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Not...as such," he managed.

A breathless chuckle, barely audible despite Draco's proximity. Then Draco was pulling away, tugging Harry by his shirtfront, dragging him across the dancefloor. They weaved their way between the other dancers until they had made it to the far side of the room.

Harry swallowed nervously when he saw their destination. The corner certainly was darkened, a couple of worn but incredibly soft looking chairs with a small table beside them. Someone had abandoned their drinks on the table, probably to go and dance.

Draco released Harry and flopped back into a chair. He looked from the brunette to the chair next to him and then back again. "Well?"

Harry sat down somewhat nervously. He wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen next. Draco was acting so casual now, but on the dance floor, he had appeared interested in Harry…. _beyond_ interested, if the hardness Harry had felt against his thigh had been any indication. He risked a glance in Draco's direction. The boy was sprawled almost bonelessly in his chair, legs splayed, and Harry couldn't help it, he couldn't…his eyes immediately flew to Draco's groin. Sure enough, his pants were tented.

Then, the boy shifted. Harry looked up, panicked, and yes, his attentions had been noticed. Draco's brow was arched in amusement. "Looking for something, Harry?"

"I…" Harry couldn't speak, bright red in embarrassment. But then Draco was sliding from his chair and into Harry's, crawling right into the Gryffindor's lap. Harry sat too stunned to move.

"Because on the dance floor, you seemed _more_ than interested. Or did I read you wrong?"

Harry was shocked speechless. This went _beyond_ Draco's no touching rule. Though honestly, Draco wasn't touching all too much, simply sitting in his lap. His hands weren't doing much more than tangling in that green button-down again, holding on as if to center himself.

Somehow, Harry managed to shake his head. "No. I mean….interested. I'm definitely interested."

Draco let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "Oh, good." And, leaning in, he pressed a kiss to Harry's throat, just below his ear. "I was rather hoping you were." He delighted in the way Harry's breath caught at the action.

"Draco—"

"Mm?" The blonde didn't cease his actions, laying kisses down Harry's throat.

"…. _fuck_." Harry, normally extremely loquacious, was finding it extremely difficult to string even two words together. "That….feels good." Draco chuckled, the noise low and throaty, and it sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

"Good. It's supposed to."

Harry had no idea how they had reached this point from earlier that day when he had turned up at the door to the Potions classroom to ask for lessons. Not that he was complaining. Learning about Draco, seeing his true nature….all of that had been amazing, and he wouldn't trade it for anything. And this? This he could safely say he would never have expected in a million years. Would he trade this?

Draco gently nipped, and Harry mewled, immediately flushing in embarrassment.

…no. He would _never_ trade this.

Still, he was at a complete loss for what to do. He just sat there, not touching Draco, too afraid to make a move. Draco, smiling, took Harry's hands and put them on his hips, immediately going back to what he was doing, nuzzling his way along Harry's throat. It felt better than it had any right to. Hesitantly, Harry began to touch, running his hands over Draco's hips, his ass. After a moment, he slid a fingertip beneath Draco's shirt to tease over his belly.

Draco's breath hitched. Encouraged, Harry slipped a whole hand under there, rucking the fabric up to get to more skin. The resulting moan sent a shudder through the blonde. Harry's free hand gripped the waistband of Draco's pants and tugged hard, pulling their bodies into closer contact.

That's when his sleeve got caught in Draco's zipper.

Draco gasped, hips automatically canting forwards. " _Fuck_ , Harry! A little forward, aren't we?"

"Draco, my hand is caught in your zipper!"

There was a snort of laughter. "Seriously, Harry? If you didn't mean to do it, you can just say so."

"No, really, Draco, my sleeve is caught in your zipper!"

Draco looked down and saw that this was true. "...oh." A moment later, he glanced up, a wicked gleam in his eye and an evil smile on his face. "...well, while you're down there, can you move your hand just a little to the left?"

Harry immediately turned a brilliant shade of fuchsia. "….Draco…" For he didn't NOT want to touch Draco like that. Just…. "….not here."

He could feel Draco stiffen. The boy pulled away to look Harry in the face. His eyes were surprised; they searched Harry's face as though trying to determine how serious he was. "…..really?"

Harry swallowed. He was finding it incredibly difficult to speak. But looking into those beautiful grey eyes, those eyes that he found himself falling in love with, he knew there was only one answer he could give. "Yes."

Draco looked shocked. At last, he nodded.

"Then let's get out of here."

 **~tbc~**


	7. Chapter 7

It was freezing cold outside. Harry shivered as he waited for Draco to hail a cab. The blonde knew the area much better, and obviously had more experience with this sort of thing. Harry never would have expected Draco to know anything about the muggle world, but clearly he was wrong. And if this day had shown him anything, it was that he was wrong about a great many things where Draco was concerned.

He smiled. He had never been so happy to be wrong in his whole life.

A car pulled up along the curb and stirred Harry from his thoughts. It was then that he noticed Draco eyeing him strangely. "What?"

"What're you smiling at?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing." He leaned in to steal another kiss, but Draco stepped out of reach. He looked questioningly at the blonde.

"Just….not here."

Harry didn't understand why it was okay in the club but not here, but he wasn't going to doubt Draco. The Slytherin knew this place better than he did. Still, he was reassured when, once inside the cab, Draco immediately took his hand, linking their fingers.

The address was not one that Harry recognized. The house was unfamiliar as well, but it was large and ornate. "Draco," he asked as his eyes roved over it, taking in every detail, "is this a hotel?"

Draco snorted and headed up the front steps. "No. Now, hurry."

Harry rushed to obey, surprised as the blonde pulled out a key and unlocked the door, giving Harry a little push to usher him quickly inside. The lights flickered on, and Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness.

The interior was as lavish as the outside. It looked almost like some fancy museum. The entryway had a Persian rug and a gleaming table with a vase filled with fresh roses. There were framed paintings of famous artwork that Harry would gamble his life were originals.

"Shoes," Draco prompted. With some difficulty, Harry peeled his eyes off of the incredible surroundings and looked to Draco only to see that the boy had kicked off his sneakers. Oh. Right. Harry responded in kind, tugging off his boots and setting them carefully beside the door. There was an umbrella rack there, and an extremely ornate gilt floor-to-ceiling mirror. Shit. Where WERE they?

Draco clearly had no time for Harry's gawking. "Come on." Taking the brunette's hand, he tugged Harry from the room. But what was in the next room stopped Harry dead in his tracks.

"Draco….that's…"

For above a positively massive fireplace was a family portrait, and not just any family. A trio of extremely familiar faces stared down at Harry. Lucius Malfoy, looking as mean as always, his wife, her eyes seeming to hide some sort of emotion Harry couldn't quite read, and there in the middle…

"Draco…is this…your home?"

Draco was clearly unhappy that they were there. "Figured that out, did you?" But there was no malice behind the words.

Harry was stunned. The fact that Draco trusted him enough to bring him here, to his house? That spoke volumes about how their relationship had changed this day. There was more to this than just physical attraction. Draco might actually….but no, Harry had to squish those thoughts down before they overwhelmed him. Then another thought hit him and he looked around him as though Lucius Malfoy were going to jump out at them at any moment. "Should we really be here?" he whispered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Relax, Harry. My father is out of the country until next week. Mom is with him." Harry immediately calmed, the tenseness leaving his body. "Honestly, Harry. Do you really think I would bring you here if there were even the slightest chance he would come home? What do you think he would—" but here Draco stopped, pale cheeks flushing as he looked away.

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to push the matter, but something in Draco's manner told him not to. Instead he simply gave Draco's hand a gentle squeeze. "You gonna show me your room?"

That got Draco's attention, and he looked up at Harry with a touch of that heated smirk on his face. "Oh, am I ever." And he was off again, tugging Harry along with him up a grand staircase. Harry let himself be pulled down a series of hallways (the house was even larger than it looked from the outside….magic, he supposed), until they reached Draco's room.

Once inside, Draco released Harry and swung the door shut behind them, flopping back against it. Harry looked around, taking it all in.

The room was fairly sparse, although he supposed that was to be expected. It wasn't likely that Lucius Malfoy would allow his son to decorate his room. Had to keep with the family's tasteful aesthetic, after all. Still, there were little touches here and there, signs of the boy that Harry had come to know this day. Some CDs carefully placed on the bookshelf…a pair of battered sneakers…but before he could look around any further, Harry felt Draco's hands at his waist again. Only this time, they didn't stop there. This time, they slid flat-palmed up his back, over his shoulders, arms wrapping around his neck. Harry shivered at the contact.

"….are you going to touch me now?" Harry's voice was no more than a whisper. Draco's hands faltered at the words, and for a moment, Harry worried he had gone too far. But Draco didn't step away, and after a few seconds, he spoke.

"….yes," he answered. "Yes, I am going to touch you." Hands on Harry's shoulders, he gently guided the boy, turning Harry to face him. Green eyes met grey, both of them nervous. "…can I…" But, unable to find the words, Draco settled for looking to his bed, then questioningly back at Harry. Swallowing down his nerves, Harry nodded, a single, tight nod.

Draco's hands moved to Harry's waist again. Slowly, in a strange parody of the waltz they had danced earlier, he guided Harry backwards until the backs of the boy's knees hit the bed and he fell onto it. Staring up at Draco, he scrambled backwards until he was seated more comfortably. Smiling, Draco climbed onto the mattress beside him and crawled into his lap as he had at the club, only this time he was indeed touching Harry, a hand softly stroking Harry's cheek.

The Gryffindor's heart was beating a mile a minute. Facing Voldemort, fighting a basilisk, that was all one thing, but sitting here with Draco in his lap? _That_ was scary. "….are you going to kiss me?" he managed to ask.

Draco looked surprised, but he smiled. "Yes," he answered. "I am."

Harry's eyes slipped shut. He could feel the closeness of Draco, feel soft blonde hair brushing against his forehead, practically feel Draco's mouth on his (though maybe that was just his imagination), and then...

"Wait a minute."

Harry's heart stopped. Surely this was the moment he had been waiting for...surely Draco had now realized how stupid this all was, had realized that this had gone too far and would decide he had no further interest in Harry, romantic or otherwise. "...what?" he asked breathlessly, nervously, terrified of the answer.

And then he felt soft cultured fingers brushing against his temples as Draco gently took hold of Harry's glasses and carefully slid them off.

"These," Draco said softly. "These have to go."

Harry couldn't see well without his glasses on a normal basis, but now it was even worse. Up close all he could see was the icing-laced cloud-dust of soft gray eyes. His heart unfroze instantly and began pounding away fiercely, and he couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escaped his lips.

Soft fingers traced down his cheek. "Did you think I was going to stop?" Draco asked.

"...a little," Harry admitted, chewing his lower lip nervously. Draco ran one thumb across Harry's lip, stopping the anxious action immediately as he chuckled softly to himself.

"Silly Harry," he chided. "Why would you ever think that?"

"...I...I don't know," Harry managed. He was so very distracted by Draco's gentle touch that he could barely think straight. He scarcely even noticed the soft clacking sound as Draco placed the glasses carefully on the bedside table. "So...so you _are_ going to kiss me?" he asked, the words all coming out in a rush.

A ghost of that small surprised smile traced across Draco's lips. "...yes," he said a moment later, voice so soft that Harry could barely hear him. "Yes, I'm going to kiss you."

Harry's breath caught in his throat and he nearly let out another noise that would have made him blush like mad. He managed to suppress it, but it was with difficulty. Draco was so close, so very close. Silver-gray eyes swam before his blurred vision, and then Draco was only millimeters away and he could feel the heat radiating off the Slytherin's body. And then it came: the slightest brush of velvet soft lips, a teasing caress just to the left side of Harry's mouth before Draco finally closed the gap between them and kissed Harry, honest to God kissed him. At that, Harry could hold it back no longer and he let out a sort of strangled sob. Draco's fingers were gently entwined in Harry's hair and he was kissing Harry so softly, so carefully and yet deliberately, as if he wanted there to be no doubt about what he was doing and what it meant. Harry's heart melted into a big gushy puddle even as it pounded away with some fierce emotion that he couldn't name. Draco kissed in a much different way than Harry would ever have expected, but it was nice. He liked it...but at the same time, he wanted more...so very much more. But he didn't know how to ask for it.

Luckily for him, he didn't have to ask. Draco's fingers released their hold on Harry's hair; his other hand ceased its gentle caress of Harry's cheek. Draco stopped kissing him. A tiny whimper of disappointment escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it and he colored immediately. Draco pulled back just enough to look Harry in the eye, hands gently holding Harry's face so that the Gryffindor couldn't look away. "Don't worry, Harry," he whispered, smiling. "I'm not going anywhere."

"...oh... okay..." Harry felt silly now, and he was certain he was blushing again, but Draco didn't comment on it. Instead, he gently pressed another kiss to Harry's mouth and, trembling, Harry pressed back into it. One smooth fingertip traced softly down Harry's cheek and the brunette shivered at the touch. He kicked himself mentally for not being better at this, for not knowing how to kiss. Draco smiled; Harry could feel rather than see it since Draco's lips still brushed teasingly against his own. "...relax," Draco murmured, obviously able to tell that Harry was insanely nervous. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say a thing, Draco took advantage of Harry's parted lips and kissed him again. And then Harry felt something he had not expected: Draco's tongue traced briefly across Harry's lower lip as though asking for permission and then, before Harry could either accept or deny this invasion, Draco slipped past his defenses, his tongue dancing across Harry's. It was surprising but not unpleasant; no, not by any means, and this was perhaps the most surprising thing of all. Harry had no time to react or really to think about it. Draco kissed him again, and twice again, and Harry decided that he really didn't mind the French kissing at all; in fact, with each kiss, he liked it a little more. Finally, Draco pulled back again, one finger stroking soft patterns across Harry's cheek. "Let's get that tongue involved," he murmured.

Harry stared at Draco, heart pounding fiercely. "Draco," he began, barely able to get words out. "Draco...Draco, I...I don't know how to..."

"Shhhh..." Draco kissed Harry gently, a soft chaste kiss, and Harry was silenced, though his concerns were not. "Don't worry about it. Just follow my lead." And before Harry could make one last protest, Draco was kissing him again, and Harry was doing his best to keep up. When Draco's tongue delved into Harry's mouth this time, a tiny whimper of sheer sensation overload escaped Harry and he met the challenge, tongue moving against Draco's, kissing back in kind. Draco pulled away slowly, sucking at Harry's lower lip. "Mmmm," he hummed, eyes half-lidded, "...lovely." Harry flushed, but he couldn't stop the small pleased smile that leapt to his face, and he ducked his head to hide it. It didn't do him much good. Seconds later he found Draco in his face once more. The Slytherin had ducked his head down so he could see Harry eye-to-eye again. "...hiding from me?" he teased.

"Not at all," Harry grinned despite himself.

"Good." Draco combed his hair out of his face. It didn't work too well, and golden locks tumbled right back into his eyes. "I was thinking maybe you didn't want any more kisses."

Harry arched an eyebrow and before he could stop himself, words tumbled forth. "...d'you think I'm crazy?"

Draco stared for a moment and then burst out laughing. "I like your thinking, Harry, I really do. And if that's the case..." he leaned forward, two fingers slipping under Harry's chin and tilting the Gryffindor's face up to meet his, "then I shall have no more compunctions about kissing the hell out of you." And he did so. It didn't feel so awkward for Harry this time, and he felt this kissing thing was something he could get used to. He pressed up into the kiss, his fingers clinging tightly to the bed cover for lack of anything better to do. His feverish body reacted with barely a hesitation, but his mind was still in turmoil, wondering if he was doing anything right.

And as far as Draco was concerned, Harry was doing just fine, better than fine. The hesitant way his mouth moved, the tentative motion of his tongue against Draco's, the soft whimpers he still made when Draco's tongue danced across his own... _wonderful_...but not quite perfect.

There was one problem, in Draco's mind, one thing that was preventing this from being seamless, unspoiled...absolute. This was of course Harry's unflinching hold on the bed sheets. Fortunately, it was an easy thing to fix. Draco's hands relinquished their gentle hold on Harry's face, the soft stroking of brown hair, and slid down Harry's shoulders, down his arms, down to where he held tight to the sheets. Softly he stroked his fingers across Harry's hands and the hold on the bed released in surprise. Without speaking, Draco gently took hold of Harry's shaking hands and guided them upwards, placing them on his own body. The Gryffindor only hesitated for a moment, then, trembling hands caught hold of Draco's shirt and the hesitation was no more; Harry was forcefully tugging at Draco, pulling the Slytherin closer to him, deeper into the kiss. And Draco sighed inwardly. There it was. Flawless. Absolute. _Perfect._ Perfectly perfect perfection.

It was as if once Harry began touching Draco, he couldn't stop. Those callused fingers that Draco loved so much began fumbling at the bottom of Draco's shirt, tugging at it, and Draco broke the kiss, pulling away to look at Harry in surprise. "Harry…Harry, hold on."

Harry obeyed, though he didn't look as though he wanted to. "What."

"You..." Draco was finding it rather difficult to breathe. "….how far exactly were you wanting to go?"

The brunette immediately pinked, but he didn't look away. "…..as far as you want to."

Oh God. Oh God, Draco was going to faint. "…..are you certain?" For he _couldn't_ be certain….not after this one day. People like Harry didn't sleep with people like Draco.

But Harry was nodding with a soft smile on his face that sent a pang through Draco's heart. "Positive."

And Draco couldn't argue; he didn't WANT to. If this was his one taste of Harry Potter (and he was certain it would be, for Harry would surely decide later that this hadn't been worth it, that _Draco_ wasn't worth it), then he was determined to make the most of it. He surged forward and claimed Harry's mouth in a bruising kiss. Harry laughed breathlessly.

"Demanding," he asked, "aren't we."

"Shut it, Potter," Draco managed. "And kiss me."

Harry grinned, once more taking hold of Draco's shirt. "No objections there."

Sitting back on his heels, Draco obediently held his arms up so Harry could divest him of his t-shirt. The boy let out a little hum of appreciation as he took in Draco's now bare chest. The blonde couldn't help preening slightly. Harry Potter liked his body.

Green eyes roved over Draco's toned chest, taking in every inch of pale skin. "I just _knew_ you'd be perfect."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "….you've thought about me before?"

Harry blushed. "Maybe. Once or twice." He frowned as though sensing imminent mockery. "Shut up."

Draco couldn't help but laugh. "No. I love it."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do."

The blonde gave a little roll of his hips, folding his arms behind his head to put his body on display. He didn't miss the way Harry's eyes widened at the sight. "And the reality matches the imagination?"

Those eyes didn't leave Draco's body. "…surpasses. Definitely surpasses."

Draco was the one blushing now. While he was happy with the way his body looked, he wasn't overly muscled. No, he had a rather slim build, despite being toned. So knowing that Harry liked, no, loved the way he looked? Yeah. That felt _amazing_.

Speaking of Harry….he still looked rather pink-faced after admitting to have thought about Draco's body. Draco smiled. He would have to put Harry's mind at ease.

"Hey." Draco leaned in, resting their foreheads together. "I've thought about you too, you know."

Harry perked up at that. "Oh?"

The Slytherin chuckled at that reaction. "Oh yeah. Many times." He gently tugged at Harry's shirtfront. "Care to show me how accurate my imagination is?"

If possible, Harry pinked even more, but he nodded. Draco leaned in for another kiss, hands simultaneously divesting Harry of his button down. As he rucked up the grey t-shirt, he could feel as well as hear the brunette's breath catch. "Ready?" he murmured. Harry raised his arms, and Draco gently tugged the shirt up and off, casting it aside.

 _God._

Draco hadn't been lying. He _had_ thought about Harry naked over the years. While he had never liked the boy ( _not true_ , that tiny part of his mind insisted, but he shoved it away again), it was impossible NOT to think at least _some_ dirty thoughts about him. Harry was sexy as hell. And in this case, he definitely lived up to any and all of Draco's daydreams.

His hands roved over Harry's now bare chest, delighting in the shiver it elicited. "You're _gorgeous_."

He didn't get any further, for Harry was surging up to claim a fierce kiss, a hand fisting in Draco's blonde hair. This time it was Draco who was moaning, rolling his hips downwards and oh, yes, he could feel Harry hard against him. That was _wonderful_. He rocked forwards again, seeking more. When he broke away, he was practically panting for breath. Both of them needed to be naked. Like, ten minutes ago.

Harry was clearly thinking the same thing, for his hands found Draco's waistband again and yanked hard. " _Fuck_ , Draco. Take off your pants."

Draco laughed breathlessly. "Awfully bossy, aren't you, Harry." But he sat back on his heels and flicked open the button on his slacks. Harry's eyes were fixed on his fingers, watching as he slowly undid his zipper, relishing in the control he had over Harry at that moment. It was very empowering.

"Are you a screamer, d'you think?"

 _"WHAT?!"_ Harry sputtered, barely getting the word out at all.

Draco laughed. "I don't think so, either. You're too quiet for that. But I don't know...you may surprise me yet. Still," he continued, "I'd peg you as more of a moaner. I thought so earlier today, right before we started dancing. You let out this little sound...a whimper of sorts." At that, Draco tossed his head back and let out a noise which was indeed a whimper...and a highly sexual one at that. Harry blushed vermillion. _Dear God! THAT'S what I sounded like?_

Draco tipped his head forward again, long blonde hair slipping into his eyes as he returned his attention once more to Harry, who was obviously agonizing over the matter. "...it's nothing to be upset about," Draco spoke up. He felt sort of bad for making Harry so uncomfortable, but he couldn't _really_ regret doing so when it brought that lovely color back into Harry's cheeks. "Seriously...don't worry about it. It was sexy."

If Harry had been concerned about his blushing before, the matter had increased tenfold. Draco couldn't help but smile as he leaned forward, mouth practically brushing Harry's ear as he whispered "you look absolutely _stunning_ when you blush...d'you know that?"

Harry couldn't answer, couldn't breathe, could barely swallow against the sudden dryness of his throat. He settled instead for a jerky shake of the head 'no'. In response, Draco pressed his cheek to Harry's. "You're on fire," he murmured. "Practically burning my skin." And he pulled back abruptly, his sudden absence leaving Harry feeling colder than he ever had before.

Draco was smiling. Harry didn't know how the other boy managed it. He himself couldn't have smiled if he tried. He could barely even breathe, and he was positive words were out of the question. "So, Harry," Draco spoke up, smile still in place, "What's it going to be? Moaning? Screaming?" He arched an eyebrow, smirking. "...dirty words?"

"….Draco…"

Draco simply grinned. He worked his way down Harry's throat and chest, trailing teasing kisses everywhere. Pausing over Harry's heart, he pressed his ear to Harry's chest, listening to the dull watery thud beating so quickly and loudly.

"Your heart is going a mile a minute," he murmured. "Like a hummingbird beating its wings.. So fast...so nervous. Trying so very hard to fly away." He pulled back, staring up at Harry. "...do you want to fly away, Harry? Should I let you go?"

Harry would rather have died than let Draco stop touching him, rather die than leave. He may be nervous, he may be awkward, hell, he may be bloody _terrified_ , but by God, he was going to see this through.

"You stop now," Harry panted, barely able to get the words out, "...and I'll fucking _kill_ you."

A surprised smile danced across Draco's face. "...I'll keep that in mind." He looked into those eyes, so beautiful, and was struck yet again with wonder at how the hell they had wound up here.

Harry, it seemed, was through waiting. Draco found himself tossed off of Harry and flat on his back, with Harry on all fours above him, boxing him in. He stared up at the Gryffindor with wide eyes.

"Told you to take your pants off," Harry said. "You're taking too damn long."

For a moment, Draco simply stared, too surprised by his sudden relocation and the reasoning behind it. Then, he burst into laughter. "Bossy," he said at last. "Very well, have your way with me, Harry."

The words brought another flush to Harry's cheeks, but there was a set to his shoulders of almost determination, and he didn't shy away. Very carefully, he tugged down Draco's slacks, discarding them to the floor, along with his socks. He teased a fingertip along the now bare arch of Draco's foot, which twitched. Draco tried to stifle a laugh, but wasn't entirely successful.

"Stop that."

"Ticklish, are we?"

"No."

Harry grinned. "Liar.

Draco raised a brow at him. "You gonna put it to the test or did you still wanna have sex?"

Heat rolled through Harry. "Ah….sex. Definitely the sex."

It was Draco's turn to grin. "Thought so." He hooked a thumb in the waistband of his black boxer briefs, the only remaining stitch of clothing he had on. "You wanna take these off, or should I?"

Oh God. Harry didn't know how he was still functioning, but he definitely wasn't able to speak. He settled for actions, brushing Draco's hand aside and gently, carefully tugging the undergarments down, tossing them to the floor with the rest of Draco's clothing.

He had to close his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, steeling himself before he could look. After all, he had never done this before, and he had never expected this night to end up here.

He opened his eyes.

 _God._ Draco was beyond beautiful, lying there stark naked, looking up at Harry for his approval and….was that a hint of nerves in those grey eyes? As if Harry would ever find anything about Draco less than completely gorgeous. Especially not after getting to know him today.

That toned chest, all smooth planes and gleaming skin…the flat stomach with its fine dusting of pale blonde hairs beginning just below his navel, leading down to…

It was incredibly difficult to breathe. Draco's cock (once Harry finally found the courage to look) lay hard and flushed against his stomach, tip glistening with a drop of precum that Harry very much wanted to lick off. All of Draco was more beautiful than Harry ever could have imagined.

He glanced up at last, having looked his fill, and met those nervous eyes. Leaning in, his lips brushed Draco's in a soft kiss. "You're _beautiful_ ," he whispered.

Those lovely pale cheeks tinged pink. "Shut up."

"No." Something told Harry that, despite how cocky Draco normally acted, he hadn't been complimented enough in his life. He kissed the blonde again. "You are. Positively lovely."

"Oh my God, shut up. And take off your pants."

Harry laughed and took pity on Draco, sitting back and undoing his jeans. "Fine. But only because I love you." He froze as the realization of what he just said hit him. Slowly, green eyes met grey ones, eyes that looked just as startled as Harry felt. "Ah….that is to say…"

A look came over Draco's face, something almost bitter, but it vanished nearly as quickly as it had come, replaced with that fake bravado. "Don't worry about it, Potter." Oh God, they were back to last names again. "I know you'd never love me."

Harry simply sat there, stupefied. Of _course_ Draco would think that. "Shut up, Draco," he said hotly. "You have no reason to say that." Draco was opening his mouth to say something else, but Harry didn't let him, he refused. The Draco he had gotten to know today, the _real_ Draco, was funny and sweet, and kind, and he refused to let the boy think any differently. "You are _amazing_. How anyone couldn't love you is beyond me."

Draco stared up at Harry, eyes wide, unable to say a word. "….you really mean that." His tone was one of wonderment. But it wasn't a question, for he could tell that it was true. Harry really did believe what he was saying.

Harry nodded. "I do."

Draco was overwhelmed; he swallowed with some difficulty. He wasn't used to being loved. All these years he had spent going to the club, finding random strangers so he could lose himself in the semblance of caring, but never really finding something that felt anything close to love. And now, he stumbled upon it here, in the arms of the boy he had been raised to hate. Draco blinked back tears that were threatening to spill forth.

"Draco?"

The blonde simply shook his head. "Take off your pants," he repeated, voice soft.

Harry was still uncertain. Draco was so very quiet. But he didn't seem angry. Indeed, the words seemed to have touched something in him. So Harry did as he was told, kicking aside socks, pants, and boxers.

Draco's eyes roved over Harry's body, unashamedly taking it all in. His hands traced down Harry's chest, over his hips, touching everywhere but the place Harry most wanted to be touched. Finally, he looked up at the Gryffindor. "You still want to….?"

Harry nodded. "Definitely."

Seemingly satisfied, Draco reached into the top drawer of the bedside table, retrieving a small bottle of lube. "Here." He tossed it to Harry, who fumbled a bit but managed to catch it. Then, Draco wriggled out from beneath Harry; he lay back against the pillows and spread his legs wide. Harry thought he would faint on the spot. Clearly Draco could tell, for a hint of a smile ghosted around the corners of his mouth. "Get to work."

Harry was having heart palpitations, he really was. "I…. _me?_ You want ME to…. _really?_ "

"Yes." Draco's tone was adamant, broking no argument. "Unless you don't want to?"

Harry immediately began shaking his head 'no'. "No, that's not it at all, I want to, I just….I've never…"

"It's easy." Draco took Harry's hand and, popping the cap on the bottle, poured some of the sticky fluid into it. "C'mere."

Still nervous, Harry settled onto the bed beside Draco and slipped a hand between his legs. He teased one slick fingertip over Draco's entrance and, slowly, pressed in.

Draco's breath hitched and Harry immediately froze. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Keep going. I'll tell you if you do something wrong."

"Promise?"

Draco looked to Harry, the smile on his face so soft and lovely that it set almost all those worries to rest. "I promise. Honestly, Harry….have I steered you wrong yet today?"

Harry had to smile. "No. You haven't." And as odd as it seemed, he knew that Draco never would. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

It was strange and new, and incredibly nerve-wracking, having Draco place so much trust in him. He was so afraid of hurting Draco. But he went slowly, and Draco murmured soft encouragements much as he had with the waltzing earlier that day, guiding Harry until he had three fingers buried deep inside Draco's tight heat, stretching him open. Then Harry crooked his fingers and Draco let out a sharp gasp, hips bucking. Harry immediately panicked. "Oh my God I'm sorry! Are you okay?!"

But the blonde was shaking his head, trying to tell Harry not to worry, and he cocked his head, pondering. "…oh…." An evil grin curved across his face. "Shall I do it again?" And without waiting for an answer, he repeated the motion, pressing his fingers right against that sweet spot. This time the noise Draco let out was more of a desperate mewl, and it _did things_ to Harry.

"Okay, okay fuck, that's enough." Draco gestured wildly towards the pile of clothing on the floor. "Wallet. Find my wallet."

Harry's brow furrowed, totally at a loss as to why Draco could want his wallet at a time like this, but he did as he was bid. The whimper Draco issued when Harry's fingers withdrew was positively pathetic, and it made need curl in Harry's belly. He rummaged through the clothing on the floor until he found Draco's wallet, returning to the bed.

Draco snatched the wallet, flipping straight to the pocket in the middle and retrieving….a condom. _Ah._ That explained things.

The blonde tore the packet open with his teeth, which was strangely erotic. Then again, Harry was beginning to think he would find _anything_ Draco did erotic, especially if it involved his mouth. But then Draco was reaching out and he was putting the condom on Harry, those graceful hands rolling the thin sheath of latex over Harry's by now aching cock. He gasped at the touch. " _Draco_."

Draco simply took Harry's face in his hands and kissed him, soft and deep, tongues dancing together. The kiss swept through Harry, leaving him trembling as he stared into those beautiful grey eyes. "Make love to me," Draco whispered.

Harry felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Draco looked as though he couldn't quite believe he'd said it. He opened his mouth as if he were about to take it back, but Harry silenced him with a kiss, and then nodded. "Lay back."

Draco was looking at Harry with disbelief in his eyes, disbelief tinged with surprise and hope and yes….happiness. Harry brushed a lock of blonde hair out of Draco's eyes and kissed him once more, softly. "Lay back," he repeated.

All traces of worry vanished from Draco's brow. He eased back against the pillows, splaying his legs wider about Harry to make room for the boy.

Harry felt another little wave of nerves. Clearly Draco could tell, for he cupped Harry's cheek. "Hey." He smiled up at the brunette. "You'll be fine."

If this day had proved anything, it was that Draco would never stop surprising him. Here the blonde was, pushing his own uncertainties aside in order to comfort Harry. The Gryffindor kissed Draco and slipped a hand beneath his knee, tugging Draco's leg up around his waist. "Ready?"

Oh, Draco could definitely get behind this new positioning. He slipped his other leg around Harry's waist as well, arms wrapping around Harry's neck, and pressed a soft kiss to the boy's lips. "Yes."

The sensation of tight heat as he breached Draco was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced before. He had to pause before he was fully in, for fear of losing control and coming on the spot. He bit his lip, eyes shut tight.

"…Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry gave a tight nod. "Yeah. Just….need a moment." He felt Draco's lips brush his forehead in a gentle kiss.

"Take your time."

A few seconds passed, a few precious seconds during which Draco patiently waited, fingers running through Harry's tangled hair, brushing sweat-dampened locks back from his forehead. At last, Harry moved, pressing the rest of the way in until he was fully sheathed. _God._ He bit his lip. It was too good. How had he waited so long to try this?

 _Because before today, you didn't truly know Draco._ And bizarre as it may seem, he couldn't picture himself doing this with anyone else.

He looked down at the blonde. Draco's breath was coming in short pants; his eyes were wild. Harry offered up a hand and, immediately, Draco took it, slotting their fingers together and gripping tight. "Move," he said.

Harry couldn't have disobeyed if he wanted to; his hips canted back and then snapped forward of their own accord. Green eyes flew wide at the sensation. " _Oh!_ "

" _Yeah_ ," Draco breathed happily. He squeezed Harry's hand tighter. Without thinking twice, Harry offered his other hand and Draco accepted. Both hands now linked, Harry pressed Draco's hands to the mattress on either side of his head, pinning him. _God_ , he looked beautiful like that. "Don't stop," Draco pleaded, rolling his hips back, seeking more.

Yet another side to Draco (this really was a day of firsts): desperate, pleading….needy. _Fuck_ , it was sexy. Harry thrust again, going harder. Clearly it felt good, if the way Draco moaned was any indication, that blonde head tipping back against the pillow. Harry took advantage of this to press his mouth to the length of exposed throat, kissing and nipping. His hips found the rhythm and kept fucking forward. Draco's body was so hot and tight around him. He angled his hips, seeking that one spot that had made Draco gasp before and oh yes, there it was, and Harry captured Draco's pleasured cry in his mouth, pressing in for another kiss. "There?" he asked breathlessly.

Draco nodded fervently. "Yes. Fuck, right there. Keep going."

Pleased that he had found the right angle, that he was making Draco feel good, Harry canted his hips again, and again, making sure to hit the same spot every thrust. Draco was coming completely undone beneath him, and it was a thing to behold. The normally put-together Slytherin was a mess, face flushed, blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes hazy with lust. A thought hit and Harry released one of Draco's hands, ignoring the noise of disappointment as he reached between them to wrap that hand around Draco's thus far ignored cock.

Immediately, all traces of disappointment vanished as Draco's hips instinctively bucked up; he thrust into Harry's grasp. " _Fuck!_ "

Harry chuckled. "Good?" This, at least, he had some experience with….with himself, anyway, but it was something.

"Good. Very good." Draco's fingers flexed, his grip on Harry's hand tightening. "Harry…"

But the brunette thought he could guess what Draco was going to say. He felt it, too. Leaning in, he softly brushed his lips against Draco's. "Come on, beautiful. Let go for me."

Draco's eyes widened at the endearment, beyond stunned; he opened his mouth to respond, but then on the upsweep of a stroke, Harry's thumb teased over the head of his cock, and it was too much. Draco came with a cry, hand squeezing Harry's so tightly that it was painful.

Harry couldn't hold out. Honestly, it was amazing he had made it this long, but with the way Draco's fluttering muscles tightened around his cock, hot seed spattering Harry's hand….it was just too much. He buried himself deep and came with Draco's name upon his lips. "Draco," he murmured. " _Draco_ …"

When the high began to fade, he realized that he was still atop Draco, nuzzling kisses all along the pale column of his throat. _Oh_. Gingerly, he pulled out, already missing that tight heat, and rolled off. "Um….where do I…"

"Wastebasket by the dresser. Tie it off and chuck it there."

Harry did as told, but there was something about Draco's voice that he didn't like. It sounded almost….thick. Like he was holding back tears…

His head whipped about, terrified of what he would see, and yes, Draco's beautiful silver eyes were filled with tears, tears he was desperately trying to force back, to no avail. "Draco!"

Draco shook his head and gestured, trying to shake Harry away, but there was no way the brunette was going to listen to him now. He simply crawled back onto the bed, wanting to take Draco into his arms again but not sure he was welcome to do so. "What….what did I do?"

At that, Draco's eyes widened in horror. "You? You didn't do _anything!_ If anything, you did everything _right!_ "

Harry felt relief that Draco wasn't upset with him. But the relief was short-lived, for even if Draco wasn't upset with him, he was still upset, and that wasn't okay. "But…" he dared to move closer. "What's wrong?" Draco shook his head again, but now that Harry knew he wasn't the source of the emotion, he dared to tug Draco into his arms. It was as if with that one action, a dam burst open, and Draco began to cry in earnest. Terrified that he had done the wrong thing, Harry made as if to release Draco, but the blonde only clung tighter, so Harry held on and began to stroke his hair. "Shh…it's okay. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," Draco managed to choke out between sobs. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Why are you sorry? For crying? You don't have to apologize for that."

"I do," Draco insisted. "You just made me so happy and I had to go and ruin it."

"Draco, you haven't ruined anything." Harry was completely bewildered as to what had set Draco off. If it wasn't their sex that had upset him, why was he crying? "Here….come on." He lay back on the bed, tugging Draco down with him and into his arms. Glancing about them, he found the nearest blanket and pulled it up over them. For some reason, this only seemed to upset Draco more and the blonde clung to him.

"You're too good to me," Draco mumbled, face buried against Harry's chest.

"Why is that upsetting?" Harry was lost.

When Draco spoke again, the words were mumbled, barely audible. "…you'll hate me..."

"…..Draco…" Harry sighed and, a hand beneath Draco's chin, tilted his face up so those grey eyes were forced to meet his gaze. "I think if today proved anything, it's that you and I can move past anything." That coaxed the smallest of smiles out of the blonde, and Harry felt hope stir in his chest. He could do this. He could help Draco through this. "Will you tell me?"

Draco simply looked at him for a moment. Finally, he looked away, but he did answer. "…the club," he said at last. "The reason I used to go there all the time was to pick people up. Or really, get picked up."

"….oh." It was easy to guess the thinly veiled meaning in Draco's words. He went to the club to find strangers to fuck him. Harry made damn certain that his voice was completely free of any sort of judgement before he asked the obvious question. "Why?" Draco took a deep, shaky breath before answering.

"…..I don't know." But it was clear that this wasn't true. Still, this was far more than Harry had expected of Draco. The Draco he had known this morning would have told him to get bent. But the blonde wasn't done. "Looking for some kind of connection." And Harry's heart broke, for this confirmed what he had suspected all along: Draco was alone here. Harry knew that Lucius treated Draco horribly in public….clearly it extended to home as well. So Draco went to the club to fill the void. "But all these people….none of it was ever real." Then those eyes looked up, beautiful grey eyes shining with tears as they met Harry's. "Till you tonight. I asked you to make love to me. I didn't mean to, but I did. And you didn't laugh me off. You said yes." His voice was amazingly steady considering how much he was shaking. "Did you mean it?"

Harry didn't hesitate, immediately answering "yes." Those grey eyes welled up again but the tears were happy now. Harry pulled Draco to him and kissed him gently.

"Listen to me," he said softly. "I don't know what's happened in the past, but I can tell you this: you are an amazing person, Draco Malfoy. I am so incredibly fortunate to know you, so Goddamn lucky that you shared this night with me."

Draco was staring at Harry with something like disbelief in his eyes. Now he shook his head, a small smile on his face. "God," he said. "I think my original opinion of you was right all along." Harry's smile faltered, stricken; then, Draco grinned, and finished. "You really ARE crazy."

Harry burst into laughter. "Mm…" he hummed, gently poking at Draco's waist. "Crazy for YOU."

Draco snorted, though his face flushed with happiness. "God, you're a dork."

"Yup." He tugged the covers tighter around them. "We gonna sleep here?"

Draco glanced at him in surprise. "You want to spend the night with me?"

"Of course I do. Why…" he propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at Draco. "Is that a problem?"

Slowly, a pleased smile grew over Draco's face; he shook his head. "No," he answered. "Not a problem at all."

"Good." Harry reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking off the lights. Satisfied, he lay back down again and pulled Draco tighter to him. The blonde made an obligatory noise of protest but Harry didn't miss the way he snuggled right up, tucking his head beneath Harry's chin.

Harry smiled. "Good night, Draco."

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry's throat, that spot below his ear that he had earlier discovered (with great pleasure) that Harry loved. "Night, Harry."

The Gryffindor kissed the top of Draco's head, loving the happy sigh it elicited, and continued to comb his fingers through the soft blonde hair, listening for Draco's breathing to even as he fell asleep.

Harry frowned as he thought over all he had just learned. It didn't bother him that Draco had been sleeping around. Draco was a big boy; he could do what he wanted. No, what bothered him was hearing from Draco's own mouth just how horribly Draco thought of himself. It was simply not okay. Harry would have to fix that.

He looked down at that golden blonde head and smiled.

They had all the time in the world, for after today, one thing was certain: he was never letting go of Draco Malfoy. He was holding on, and he would make damn sure that the boy knew just how wonderful he was.

Harry yawned, eyes slipping shut.

He would start first thing tomorrow.

 **~tbc~**


	8. Chapter 8

"DRACO!"

Draco awoke with a start and shot up in bed—no easy feat with Harry's body wrapped about him, octopus-like. But the blonde knew that voice, knew it better than he knew his own. He had been awakened by it far too many times in his life. The sound of it sent pure terror stabbing through him. "Father!"

Lucius Malfoy stood beside the bed, regarding the two boys with fury in his eyes. "I saw the shoes by the door. I told myself there had to be a reasonable explanation, that my son would _never_ bring someone back to the house."

Draco was still having difficulty wrapping his mind around the fact that his father was even _there_. "You….you're supposed to be in Austria until next Wednesday-"

"So that makes it okay for you to bring some boy back here to your bed?!"

Harry was stirring now, blinking awake. Draco willed him back asleep. If Lucius recognized the Gryffindor….God. The thought sent a chill down his spine. "Father, I can explain—"

"I should have known I was wrong. After all, you're nothing but a cheap whore, aren't you?"

Draco bristled; without thinking, he snapped back "you would know, wouldn't you?"

Lucius stared at his son, shocked. Draco immediately regretted the words. He was in for it now, oh God, was he in for it. "You little…" The words were barely more than air, soft and dangerous.

Harry sat up, regarding Draco with sleepy eyes. _God_ , he looked adorable. Draco wanted to pull him back down, tug the covers up over their heads, and spend the whole day kissing him senseless. Instead, he had this to deal with. "Draco?" Harry mumbled. He was clearly still not fully awake. Then those green eyes saw Lucius, and suddenly he was much more alert. " _Malfoy?_ "

It didn't seem as though Lucius realized who Harry was. Draco silently thanked any God who was listening. "Whoever you are, get out of my son's bed _right this instant_."

Harry turned to Draco, eyes wide, mouth open. Draco looked back, eyes pleading, but neither had a chance to say a word. Lucius had gotten tired of being ignored. With a growl, he grabbed Harry's shoulder and tossed him out of bed and out of the way. Draco cowered. His father's wrath was a terrible thing at the best of times. But this, in bed? This brought back a whole set of memories that he thought he had buried down deep. He could taste the bile rising in his throat. "Father, please—"

"Shut. UP." And then Lucius backhanded Draco across the face. Draco went slamming against the wall, stunned. But Lucius wasn't done, clambering onto the bed and grabbing Draco by the shoulders, shaking him.

"Bring some random boy into my house? _MY HOUSE?_ " He smacked Draco again. "You filthy little _slut!_ "

Draco's face burned, and not just from the slaps. He had heard these words before, and worse. But knowing Harry was here, seeing his father treat him this way, calling him these names, that Harry would know him for the worthless slut he was…..that _hurt_.

Then, a pillow slammed against the back of Lucius' head hard enough to send him falling forwards into Draco. "Stop it!" Harry yelled. "Stop it!"

Lucius looked surprised at the action, though he still paid no attention to Harry. He merely smirked mockingly at his son. "Got a feisty one here." He took Draco's chin in his hand, gripping tightly. "Think he cares about you? He doesn't. No one does. You're just a worthless whore."

Draco's eyes swam with the first hot pinpricks of tears. He blinked them back, averting his gaze. He got another slap for his troubles.

"Don't you turn away from me!"

 _Thunk_. Lucius' eyes seemed to roll back in his head and then he slumped forward, collapsing onto the bed. Draco looked up, baffled, and saw Harry standing there holding a heavy brass paperweight that he had clearly grabbed off of Draco's desk. He had clocked Lucius over the head and knocked him out. _Holy shit_.

Draco stared. "….Harry…"

Harry tossed the paperweight aside; it landed on the floor with a heavy thud. "We need to get out of here."

Draco was too shell-shocked to move. Luckily, Harry could see that. Going to his knees, he began sorting through their clothing and helping Draco dress. He quickly followed suit, then took Draco by the hand. "Come on."

Draco could do no more than nod dumbly and stare at his father's unconscious form as he allowed Harry to tug him out the door and down the stairs. The brunette headed into the room that held the family portrait and the huge fireplace.

"Floo powder," Harry said. "Where is it?"

Somehow, Draco managed to shake off his stupor enough to move to a small urn on the mantel. Harry followed and, removing the lid, took a pinch.

"Okay," he said, and tugged Draco into the fireplace with him. "Arms around my waist, and hang on tight."

Draco didn't have to be told twice. If there was anything he wanted at this moment, it was the comfort of Harry's body close to his. Wrapping his arms around Harry, he buried his face in curve of the boy's throat, deeply inhaling that wonderful scent he had come to love since yesterday. He was vaguely aware of Harry saying an address, of the Floo Powder being tossed, and then they were travelling.

It was mere seconds before they reached their destination: Sirius Black's house, the location of the Order of the Phoenix. Not that Draco knew any of this. He had no idea where they were, and it honestly didn't matter, so long as they were out of his house. Still he remained as he was, clinging to Harry.

"Hey." Harry gently stroked Draco's hair. He felt the way that the blonde was trembling. "Draco….Draco, it's okay. I've got you. You're safe now."

Honestly, Harry himself was extremely unsettled. What he had just seen had terrified him. All of his suspicions had been true, and worse. Seeing all of that….he felt physically ill at the way Lucius had treated his son.

Harry pulled away, heart aching at the noise of distress Draco made. But he only withdrew far enough so that he could look Draco in the eye. What he saw broke his heart. Tears were streaming from those beautiful eyes. "Hey." He cupped Draco's face in his hands, gently brushing the tears away with his thumbs, and kissed the boy's forehead. "You're okay. I've got you." All Harry wanted to do was take Draco to his room and put him to bed, hold him close until he stopped crying. But he could hear the house stirring, hear the sound of people in the kitchen, and he knew they had to make their presence known. "Hey. Let's go let everyone know we've arrived, yeah? Then we can go to my room."

Draco's eyes never left Harry's. He took a deep, shuddering breath. Finally, he nodded. "Okay."

The Gryffindor spared a moment to give Draco a final kiss, stroking his cheek. "It'll be okay," he said softly. Draco nodded again. As they turned to the door, Draco's hand found Harry's, fumbling as he linked their fingers. Harry had to smile, raising it to his lips to kiss the back of it.

The instant they entered the kitchen, all eyes were on them. "Harry!" Sirius was at Harry's side in an instant, yanking the boy into his arms. "We were so worried about you!" Harry regarded him with puzzled surprise. "You didn't return to Hogwarts last night. McGonagall sent us an owl."

…oh. OH. Harry hadn't even thought of it. "…I was…..otherwise occupied." Harry couldn't help glancing at Draco. The blonde snorted softly at Harry's choice of words. Harry smiled to hear it, hope stirring within him. Maybe Draco would be okay.

Sirius had tracked Harry's gaze and was looking between the two boys with suspicion. "….but you're alright?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed, taking Draco's hand again. "Yes, we're fine."

Sirius noted the use of "we", and nodded. "Okay. We'll send an owl to McGonagall." Remus had come up behind Sirius, wrapping an arm around the shorter man's shoulders. Sirius smiled up at him. "Think you could do that, love?"

Draco's brows rose ever so slightly at the term of endearment; even more so when Remus' lips brushed Sirius' forehead in a gentle kiss. "Of course."

Sirius nodded in satisfaction. "It's settled, then." He looked to the boys. "You two go and get some rest." He could clearly see that there was more to the story than they were letting on, but that there was a reason Harry wasn't sharing it right now. Harry gave him a grateful look and, giving Draco's hand a squeeze, led him from the kitchen.

The men watched the two boys go; then, Sirius turned to Remus with raised brows. "Well," he said. "This is certainly an interesting development."

Remus snorted. "Right. You didn't see the two of them at school."

Sirius' brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"They were at each other constantly. It was obvious that they were going to fuck eventually."

"REMUS!" Sirius smacked his husband with a rolled up newspaper. "Do NOT talk that way about my godson!"

Remus merely laughed. "What, did I insult your delicate sensibilities?" But he didn't wait for an answer, pressing on. "Because you didn't seem so sensitive last night…" His tone had grown sultry. Sirius didn't miss the change.

"No, no, not at all," he backpedaled. "Just…keep your dirty words for me. No one else."

"Okay," Remus chuckled. "Just you."

"Good." Sirius leaned in for a kiss, but immediately stopped with a groan. "Aw, fuck."

"What?"

"With kids in the house, we're gonna have to tamp down the sex, aren't with?"

Remus laughed. "Guess so. Or you'll just have to learn to keep your filthy mouth shut."

"Goddammit."

* * *

Harry managed to get Draco to his room with no further troubles. The blonde now sat on his bed, silent. Harry was beginning to get a little worried. But before he could say anything, ask if Draco was okay, the boy looked up at him.

"So….your godfather's a poof?"

Harry just stared. Of all the things he had expected to come out of Draco's mouth, that was _definitely_ not one. Not only that, up until this point, as far as Draco knew, Sirius wanted to kill Harry, not take care of him. Harry burst into laughter. "THAT'S what you focus on? Not the fact that Sirius Black is in hiding here, not that he's not out to kill me, but that he's _gay?_ "

A small smile, the barest twitch of the lips. "You know me. I focus on the important things."

But there was still sadness on Draco's face, in his eyes, and Harry could tell he was going to break at any moment. He sank to the bed beside Draco and pulled the blonde into his arms. Sure enough, Draco immediately began silently weeping. Harry didn't say a word, simply held Draco close and stroked his back, his hair, letting Draco know through silent touches that he was here.

But it wasn't enough. Finally, Harry lay down and pulled Draco close, tugging his quilt over the two of them. He didn't try to get Draco to explain anything. He knew that sometimes, it was better to just cry it out, to let all that emotion flow forth. So he simply held Draco, all the while stroking his hair, kissing him, murmuring soothing words, even after Draco had fallen asleep.

Harry _couldn't_ sleep; his mind was too occupied with all that had happened that morning. The way that Lucius had hit Draco….if Harry hadn't been there to stop him….why, he couldn't bear to imagine what might have happened. And the way that Draco had reacted? Harry had never seen Draco like that, so truly and utterly scared.

It wasn't just the abuse, either; it was the words Lucius has used. He had called Draco a whore…a slut. And Draco hadn't contested it. This wouldn't have struck Harry as so odd (after all, it could have just been a way to appease Lucius by not arguing), but Harry doubted it. After all that Draco had told him last night, he would wager his life that Draco took those insults at face value. Draco thought he was worthless. A worthless slut, just like his father said.

Harry's heart ached as he looked down at Draco's face, drawn with pain even in sleep. He kissed the troubled brow, trying to soothe the worries from it. "You're not worthless," he whispered. "You're _beautiful_. And somehow I'm going to make you realize that."

No matter how long it took.

* * *

Harry never did manage to truly sleep. He dozed a little, but got no real nap; instead he spent his afternoon watching over Draco. The Slytherin's sleep was restless, and Harry soothed away more than one nightmare with kisses and soft caresses.

It was early afternoon when Draco finally awoke. He looked utterly shocked to see that Harry was still there, which broke the Gryffindor's heart that much more. Yes, Draco really did think he was worthless.

Somehow, Harry managed a smile, stroking Draco's cheek. "Hello."

"Hello." Draco shifted, glancing around him. He seemed much more lucid than he had been that morning. It was to be expected. One couldn't go through that sort of ordeal and immediately come through it clear-headed. No, the sleep had obviously done some good. "So…is this Black's house?"

"Sirius," Harry corrected. He wanted Draco and Sirius to be comfortable around each other. Before yesterday, he would have said that were impossible, but before yesterday he would have thought it were impossible for him to have feelings for Draco Malfoy.

 _Feelings?_

He squashed the thoughts down. There were more important things to think about right now. He could mull over semantics later.

"Yes," he answered. "It's his house. You're safe here."

At that, Draco laughed derisively and sat up, brushing Harry's arms aside. "Safe? As long as my father's out there, I'm not 'safe' anywhere."

"So we'll take care of him."

Draco stared at Harry in disbelief. "You…." But Harry wasn't laughing. "…..you're serious. You want to take on my father."

"After what I saw him doing to you?"

"That was nothing." But Draco was no longer looking at Harry.

"Are you kidding me? Draco, the way he was hitting you—"

"—is nothing new!" Draco snapped. "Why do you suddenly care now? Because we danced a little bit? We fucked? What's changed, Harry? How does one day suddenly make you give a damn that my father kicks the shit out of me?"

Harry felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. "Okay, I deserve that, I know. I'm sorry. I've been prejudiced all these years and I never stopped to think that you might have reasons for acting the way you do."

"You think?" Draco's voice was dripping sarcasm. Harry had to bite back a retort. It was difficult; his nature still saw Draco as someone to spar with, despite all the changes of the last twenty-four hours.

"I'm sorry. All I can say is I'm sorry. But I don't want you thinking badly of yourself, either."

Those grey eyes snapped their attention to Harry, surprise evident. He stared back, unflinching. "You're not as hard to read as you'd like to think you are. I can tell, Draco. You believe all that shit your dad said about you. I don't know why, but you do." Draco looked away again. "Draco—" Harry reached out but Draco flinched at the touch. Harry's heart shattered into a million pieces.

"….so….you're back to not letting me touch you." His tone was dull. Draco looked up at him, eyes wild, almost pleading.

"Harry, its not-"

"Not what I think?" Harry finished. "Then what is it?" But Draco only stared at him, desperation in those beautiful eyes, and Harry's mind flew through the events of the past twenty-four hours, struggling to piece together the puzzle.

Draco. The way his breath caught as Harry tried to touch him when they first began to dance, how he stepped away, told Harry no. How when they danced together later that night, Harry still had to push for even the tiniest contact. For every one step forward, Draco took two back. He would lean into Harry's leg, but shy away from his hand. Nothing more than the most minimal connection.

But when they were alone together…

It was as if Draco unfurled, like a flower. He was so open and free, like all the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. His hands roamed everywhere, and he trusted Harry implicitly. He even asked Harry to make love to him.

 _Make love to me._

The words rang in Harry's ears. It was still hard to believe. It had been one of the most beautiful nights of his life.

But this morning….

The Draco he saw this morning was a complete contrast. When Lucius appeared, Draco had curled in upon himself, as though he were trying to appear as small as possible, much the way an animal does when trying to hide from a predator. Harry could still see Draco, cowering on the bed as his father stalked towards him—

Harry's eyes widened in horror. He looked to Draco, who was resolutely avoiding his gaze. "….Draco….did your dad—" but he couldn't get the words out, couldn't make himself ask the question that he really didn't want an answer to. But he didn't have to ask. Draco knew what he meant.

"A few times," Draco answered quietly. "The first time, he was drunk. Not so much as to not know what he was doing. Mother wasn't home, and he was…well…feeling _restless_. Woke up and he was on top of me. Couldn't walk too well for a few days."

"…Draco…" Harry's voice was tiny, barely audible. Draco either didn't hear him or simply chose not to acknowledge him. Probably the latter. It was as though if he didn't get all of this out in the open now, it would stay locked up forever, so it all came pouring out, every dark, terrible thing he had kept hidden all these years.

"Mom noticed, of course. Wanted to know what was wrong. I didn't tell her. I _couldn't_ tell her. Still, he hit me about for being "obvious". Then he just kept coming back. Think he realized women weren't really his _type_."

"But you always talk about him at school." Harry couldn't help bringing it up, he had to ask. Draco shrugged uncomfortably.

"I guess….talking about him so much….saying "my father said this" or "I'm telling father" over and over again, just constantly bringing him up….it makes it sort of feel like I actually have a relationship with him. Well," and he laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, one with no real mirth in it. "One that's not royally fucked-up."

Harry reached for Draco's hand but then stopped. "…is this why you don't like being touched?" It all made so much sense now.

Draco was silent; his hand twitched where it lay resting on his knee. "Yes," he answered at last. "The only person who ever really touched me was him, and it wasn't a good sort of touch."

The two were quiet. Harry ached, wanting to hold Draco, to offer comfort, but with the way things were right now, it seemed as if the best way to do so would be by not touching the boy at all.

Then Draco spoke up, voice shattering the silence of the room. "But," and reaching out, he took Harry's hand in his, "I'm pretty positive I like it when it's with you."

Harry stared at Draco, shocked. The blonde smiled shyly back at him. A huge smile broke across Harry's face and he pulled Draco to him with such force that the Slytherin tumbled into Harry's lap with a laugh. Harry's only response was to kiss Draco fiercely. "You're _wonderful_ ," he murmured against Draco's mouth.

Draco blushed. "Shove off, Potter," he mumbled, and pushed at Harry's chest, but he couldn't escape from the brunette's arms.

"No. You are. And I'm going to make you see it, cuz you're not escaping from me now."

That got Draco's attention and he stopped struggling. "Oh?" He grinned at Harry. "Property of Harry J. Potter, is that right?"

Harry nodded. "Damn straight."

"Hmm…" Draco hummed thoughtfully, leaning in to steal a kiss. "….doesn't sound too bad."

"Good," Harry murmured in between kisses. "Cuz you're stuck with me."

Draco laughed. "Oh I am, am I?"

"Yes….you are."

At this point, Draco was fully seated in Harry's lap. Now he maneuvered Harry back onto the pillows, following him down as they kissed. "Well, I think I can live with that."

They kissed for several long minutes. Harry was absolutely delighted that Draco was not just letting himself be touched, but that (from what he had said) it seemed as if he never intended to break off that contact again. Still, there was one final matter to settle. "So what are we going to do about your father, then?"

Draco stiffened. "My father."

"Yeah. Have to keep you safe." Harry ran his fingers through Draco's hair slowly, gently, wanting to provide a soothing touch. It seemed to work, for Draco relaxed.

"My mother, too."

Harry's ears perked up at that. "Your mother?" He never heard Draco mention his mother.

"Yes. She's not safe there. He doesn't hurt her outright, but if I'm not there for him to take his anger out on, he might."

Well THAT was no good. "Any ideas what we should do?"

Draco sighed and sat back on his heels, still kneeling above Harry, straddling his hips. "Well, you could have Weasley's father get some of his men together and raid my house like in second year. If you think you can do it right this time, last time you mucked it up royally."

Harry's eyes widened. "….what?" he asked weakly.

Draco raised a brow. "You and Ron….the Polyjuice potion….ring any bells? Seriously, Harry, you didn't _honestly_ think I believed that was Crabbe and Goyle, did you? Do give me a _bit_ of credit."

"You….but we…."

Draco grinned; clearly he was taking great delight in the shock he had just provided Harry with. "Why do you think I goaded you so much? All the insults I heaped on the Weasleys, on Granger. And on you! Good Lord, the comments I made about you alone!" Hands on his hips, Draco put on his best sneer and began spitting forth sarcastic comments. "Saint Potter, the Mudblood's friend." Then the cruel veneer faded and the pleasant person Harry had come to know these past twenty-four hours reappeared, grinning down at the Gryffindor. "I _was_ convincing, wasn't I?"

Harry couldn't answer, couldn't say a word; he simply stared, dumbfounded. All these years, they thought they had tricked Draco, but no, he had known it was them all along. "You…." Then his head cleared. "But you told us about the secret chamber in your house where your dad keeps his…." Realization dawned. "…..oh."

Draco looked proud. "Yeah. I thought that bit was exceedingly clever. Tell Weasley and get his dad to raid our place, get my father locked up and then my mom and I would be free of him. But no, stupid bastard somehow managed to look in all the wrong places and didn't find anything particularly nasty. End result: father's still at home and mother and I are still being put through hell."

Harry felt rather as if he should apologize, but he was still too completely overwhelmed by the realization that somehow, Draco had known that it was he and Ron. He had seen through the charade and put on one of his own, and he had fooled them completely. "You…" Draco looked at him expectantly. "….you are a devious little shit, d'you know that?"

Draco laughed. "I've been told." Grinning, Harry yanked Draco down into his arms, rolling him over and pinning him to the bed. The blonde smiled up at him. "Planning to do something about it?"

"Mm…" Harry trailed a fingertip along Draco's jawline. "….a good many things. But first, let's go see Sirius and Remus."

The blonde frowned. "What in blazes for?" Clearly he saw no need to leave the bed, and honestly, Harry couldn't blame him. At this precise moment, he didn't feel much like leaving, either. But Draco's safety came first.

"So we can tell them where to have the Ministry search." Draco's mouth formed a silent 'o' of understanding. "The sooner we do, the sooner your father is put away. Then you and your mom will be safe."

Draco nodded at last. "Yeah. Okay." He smiled up at Harry. "Kiss me, first?"

Harry laughed. "No way am I going to refuse that request."

And kiss him he did.

* * *

Dinner that evening was an interesting affair. No one was entirely certain how to act around one another. As far as Sirius had always been concerned, Draco was the enemy, the boy who made Harry's life a living hell. Now the two of them were sitting close enough that their thighs brushed, and they had only stopped holding hands in order to eat. It was all incredibly bewildering.

Remus took it more in stride, but then again, he had experience with kids during his time as a teacher. Harry might be Sirius' godson, but that didn't mean Sirius knew a thing about growing boys. Or girls. Or…. _oh bloody hell, how do I handle this?_

"So," Sirius' voice was louder than it probably ought to have been, startling everyone at the table. Remus raised a brow at him; he glowered and turned his attention back to the boys. "You're opening the ball again?"

Harry nodded, pulling a face. "Unfortunately. But Draco taught me to dance." He glanced at the Slytherin, and the look they exchanged was so warm that Sirius immediately knew that there was no way he could ever discourage whatever this thing was that was growing between them.

"Is that so?"

Draco's grey eyes flicked to Sirius, wary, but he detected only honest friendliness in the query. "Well, McGonagall made him," Draco replied, giving Harry a teasing prod.

"No, she made me ask SOMEONE. I chose you."

Draco looked taken aback. "…..really?"

"…I didn't tell you that?"

The Slytherin shook his head, looking stunned. "No. You only said she made you ask me."

"…..oh." Harry was flushing now. "Yeah. She told me she would really like it if I asked you but she gave me a list of other people I could ask."

Draco was silent for a moment. It was clear that he had multiple questions he wanted to ask and didn't know where to begin. "…..how many did you ask before me?"

"….none."

The room fell deathly quiet. Finally Harry dared to look up at Draco. Those grey eyes were wide; a smile was spreading across that lovely face, setting it aglow. He opened his mouth to speak…

The fire flamed up and Narcissa Malfoy appeared, closely followed by Tonks. Draco shot out of his chair so fast that it toppled over behind him with a crash. "MOM!"

"Draco!" She looked relieved to see that her son was safe, catching him as he came barreling towards her and enfolding him into her arms. She kissed the top of his head. "I'm so happy you're safe."

Draco pulled away to look at her, eyes roving over her face as though inspecting to make certain she weren't injured. "He didn't hurt you at all?"

She shook her blonde head. "I'm fine."

"And he's gone?"

Sirius and Remus looked to Tonks for confirmation on this subject and she nodded. "We found the chamber right where Draco said it would be. Malfoy will be in Azkaban for the rest of his life."

Draco's shoulders sagged as all of the tension left his body in one giant whoosh. Harry was afraid for a moment that the boy was going to collapse. He was at Draco's side in an instant, slipping a supportive arm about his waist. "You okay?"

Narcissa looked curiously from Harry to Draco.

"Mom, this is Harry Potter." Draco looked at Harry and smiled. "He's my friend."

Harry's heart melted a little bit. He and Draco were more than friends and they both knew it, but right now was neither the time nor the place to get into it with Narcissa Black. It was a matter _they_ hadn't even discussed at any great length. For now? For now it just felt wonderful hearing Draco call him a friend.

Narcissa's lovely eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the look faded nearly as quickly as it came. She offered a hand to Harry. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said politely. "Are you the one who saved my son?" But before Harry could answer, Draco had nodded, and all semblance of that smooth façade vanished as Narcissa's motherly emotion took over. Harry found himself being tugged into a tight embrace.

" _Thank you_ ," Narcissa whispered.

"…I…" Harry couldn't speak, partly because he was overwhelmed by the show of emotion, partly because she was squeezing him so damn tight.

"Mom! You're gonna crush him!" Draco yanked on his mom's arm until she released Harry. He rolled his eyes at Harry with a smile.

The brunette shook his head, finally managing to find some words. "Don't have to thank me. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Your son is _wonderful_."

Narcissa took Harry's hand in hers and squeezed it; her eyes were glistening with tears. When Harry glanced to Draco, he wasn't surprised to see that the blonde was blushing.

Remus cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Narcissa? Would you care to join us for dinner?"

A flicker of surprise crossed that lovely face once more. It was clearly unusual for a man to treat her as an equal. Narcissa smiled and inclined her head. "Yes, thank you."

Draco found Harry's hand and squeezed. Harry squeezed back, and dared to lean his head on the blonde's shoulder.

This could all work out.

* * *

Later that night, after Narcissa had settled into her own room, after she and Draco had spent time alone for over two hours (two hours where Harry had anguished alone, wondering what was happening, if Draco was going to leave with his mother), finally the blonde had emerged and, taking Harry's hand, led them both back down the hallway to Harry's room. The instant the door was shut behind them, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, pressing his face to Harry's throat.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much for all of this."

"Draco—"

"No, shut up. I know you're going to say I don't have to thank you, but I do. You've done so much for me today. You saved me, and my mom. I can never thank you enough for that."

But Harry had had enough. He pulled away and took Draco's face in his hands. "Listen to me very carefully." Looking deep into those grey eyes, he spoke slowly, making sure Draco heard every word. "You do _not_ have to thank me. You are a wonderful person. I would do _anything_ to protect you." And it was strange to realize just how strongly he meant that.

Draco's eyes searched Harry's face. Whatever he found there made him flush; his gaze went to the floor. "You're ridiculous," he mumbled. "But thank you." Then those beautiful eyes looked back up and Draco was smirking. "You have some fairly spectacular qualities yourself."

Harry couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped. He covered his mouth too late. That smirk only grew; Harry glowered. "Shut up."

"No."

With a sigh, Harry turned to his dresser. They hadn't had time to bring any of Draco's things with them when they made their escape that morning. Now that Lucius was put away, Draco could get to his clothes whenever he wanted, but for tonight he would have to make do with wearing some of Harry's. "I'm sorry you don't have your own stuff here to wear."

"I'm not." Draco grinned as he changed into the clothes Harry gave him. "I like wearing your things."

Harry laughed as he changed into his own pajamas. "You're such a dork."

"Yup." Draco clambered up onto the bed. Harry watched him go, head tilted.

"And you're sure you don't want your own room?"

"Positive. Why…" and now Harry could detect the undercurrent of insecurity that Draco was trying desperately to hide. "Want to get rid of me, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes and crawled onto the mattress, right into Draco's lap, straddling the boy's hips and effectively pinning him to the bed. "Does this answer your question?"

Draco stared up at him, surprised; slowly, a smile spread over his face. "I don't know….think I may need a bit more clarification."

The Gryffindor couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Such a dork," he murmured. "Okay then, Draco. Let me see what I can do."

Draco found himself being divested of the clothes he had just changed into, and Harry's quickly followed as he proceeded to do his utter best to drive Draco out of his mind.

It was some time later before they collapsed to the mattress, panting for breath.

"Well," Draco managed. "Looks like I didn't need those clothes after all."

This time, Harry just barely managed to stifle the burst of laughter, turning it into a most undignified snort. The noise set Draco off and soon enough the two were howling with laughter.

Just down the hall, Sirius fixed Remus with a dirty look. "And you were yelling at ME about being loud?"

"They're just kids; cut them some slack."

But Sirius was having none of it. He rose from bed and walked to the bedroom door, leaning into the hallway to holler "KEEP IT DOWN OUT THERE!"

In their room down the hall, Harry and Draco stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"…..shit."

"Yeah." Harry grinned abashedly at Draco. "Guess we'd better try and get to sleep."

"Probably." Draco let Harry wrap an arm about him, snuggling up against the Gryffindor.

They were settled in for the night. Several long moments had passed before Draco spoke up. "….me too."

Harry shifted beneath him. "…'me too' what?"

"I would do anything for you."

Harry felt as if his heart had stopped. Six words….six little words, but they meant so very much. "….I…." His throat caught on words that wanted to come out but which he knew he couldn't say, wasn't ready to say.

Luckily, Draco seemed to understand. "I know." Linking his fingers with Harry's, he gave the boy's hand a squeeze. "Me too."

Warm butterflies fluttered through Harry's belly. Kissing the top of Draco's head, he held the boy that much tighter, and soon enough they both fell into the most restful sleep either had experienced in a very long time.

 **~tbc~**


	9. Chapter 9

"You two boys should be ashamed."

Harry and Draco stood in McGonagall's office, eyes on the floor, attempting to look contrite. She had been lecturing them for several minutes now, with no sign of stopping.

"I gave you permission to go to the club under the impression that you would be returning the very same night. If your plans were different, you should have told me, or at least informed me that evening once they had changed."

"Yes, professor."

Harry tried hard not to snicker at Draco's overly contrite tone, he really did. Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely successful. McGonagall turned her disapproval in his direction.

"You aren't innocent in this matter either, Mr. Potter. I do believe you know how to owl as well."

Harry didn't respond, for he had no excuse. He settled for a meek nod, ignoring the satisfaction he could feel radiating off of Draco. Before yesterday, it would have pissed him off. Now all he wanted to do was kiss that smug smile right off the blonde's face (he just knew it was there).

McGonagall was silent for a long moment, regarding each boy in turn. "I take it," she said at last, "that the lessons went well?"

Two heads nodded in unison, almost too quickly. They both looked at each other and smiled, and their cheeks flushed. This did not go unnoticed by McGonagall, who suppressed a smile of her own.

"Well," she spoke up at last. "I suppose that means you'll be needing a new place to practice."

"Professor?"

McGonagall mulled the matter over for a moment or two. "...I believe the Defense Against the Dark Arts room would work well."

Harry conjured up an image of the room. Yes, it was plenty large enough, if they moved the desks. Lupin had them fight the bogart in there, and there had been room for it to change into a giant spider and the snake-turned-clown jack in the box (honestly, how had Parvati thought THAT was less scary than a snake?). Surely there was enough room for waltzing.

"You have less than a month until the ball. I trust, Mr. Malfoy, that you can teach Mr. Potter all he needs to know?"

Draco looked at Harry, and there was a hint of a dark promise in those grey eyes, a smirk teasing the corners of his lips. "And then some."

McGonagall coughed, and there was disapproval in the sound. Both boys jumped, standing to attention. "While I am happy you two are getting along, please do keep your after-hour antics to a minimum. I would appreciate it if Mr. Potter is actually able to perform at the ball."

Draco nearly choked at the words. Surely McGonagall had to realize the way "after-hour antics" sounded. Harry smacked Draco, glaring, but his cheeks were pink, that gorgeous blush that Draco was so quickly falling in love with. "Shut up," Harry hissed, and turned apologetically to McGonagall. "We'll practice," he assured her. "We promise." Turning, he grabbed Draco's hand and gave a tug, pulling the boy with him out the door.

McGonagall watched them go with a barely suppressed smile. She had often wondered over the years if the two would get together or kill one another. Now she had her answer.

* * *

As soon as they were out in the hallway, Harry smacked Draco's shoulder again. "What the heck is _wrong_ with you?"

"I'm sorry!" Draco protested. "But seriously...come on! "After-hour antics"? There's no WAY she didn't realize how inappropriate that sounds! And then she says she wants me to make sure you're able to PERFORM? I mean, come ON!"

Harry was blushing. "Maybe you've just got a dirty mind."

"Oh, bullshit. You thought the same exact thing."

Harry chose not to dignify that with a response, though his silence was all the confirmation that the Slytherin needed. He could see Draco grinning out of the corner of his eye. "So," he said. "Defense Against the Dark Arts Room."

"Guess so."

"And...you're okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. I kind of wanted to find someplace more...private."

Draco looked curiously at the Gryffindor. "You think someone will come in on us?" Then a more horrible thought occurred. "Are you embarrassed of being seen with me?"

"No!" Harry was horrified. "GOD, no! How could you even _think_ that?"

"I don't know! I mean, it wasn't that long ago we were at each other's throats." Two days, to be exact.

Harry had to concede the point. Still: "Well, I'm not. At all."

The smallest smile crossed the blonde's lips; he ducked his head to hide it, but Harry saw it all the same. "Good." After a moment, he realized that Harry hadn't given him an answer. "So what's the problem?"

Another awkward shrug. "...I just..." The next words were mumbled so quietly that Draco had to lean in closer to hear them. "...kind of wanted to sleep with you again." Immediately Harry's head shot up, eyes wide. "Not like...I mean SLEEP with you sleep with you. Like...ACTUALLY sleep. Not sex. Not that'd I'd object to sex, I'd _love_ to have sex with you again. I just...I mean..." But he got no further before Draco, who had been staring at Harry, completely taken aback, burst into uncontrollable laughter. Harry's expression grew rueful. "Laugh it up, Malfoy."

"I'm sorry," Draco gasped. "I just...can't. Oh my God."

"I'm glad you find me so amusing."

"Oh, I do." Finally getting his laughter under control, Draco stepped closer, running his fingers through Harry's messy hair. Harry leaned into the touch, eyes going half-lidded, like a cat's. Draco smiled. "I'm glad you'd like to sleep with me again. I mean sleep with me sleep with me." Those green eyes opened, narrowing into a glare, and Draco laughed again.

"Keep going, Malfoy, and I'll withdraw the part about the sex."

"Okay, I take it back, I take it back," Draco hastily said. Harry grinned, and leaned in for a kiss.

"Good," he whispered, and his lips softly brushed Draco's. Draco pressed happily into the kiss.

"So," he murmured in between kisses. "What should we do about our situation?"

The Gryffindor nuzzled along Draco's throat, humming thoughtfully. "...I suppose we could always find a way to bring a bed with us." After all, wizards had tents that had entire rooms inside them. How difficult could it be to manage one bed?

Draco seemed to read his mind. "You thinking we do a little camping?"

Harry grinned. "Think it'll work?"

The Slytherin nodded, smiling back. "I think it sounds _perfect_."

* * *

McGonagall had been right: the Defense Against the Dark Arts room was a perfect size. The two boys had magicked all the desks out of the way, leaving plenty of space for dancing. It also left room for a fairly small tent. At first they had contemplated simply transfiguring a bed, but in the end, decided it would be better to have the additional coverage that a tent could provide. After all, if anyone DID happen to pop their heads into the room, they were much less likely to notice a tent than they were a bed with two sleeping boys.

It was still fairly early on their second night of practice. Draco, the brat, wasn't dancing with Harry. No, he had stopped their lesson only half an hour in, and told Harry to practice on his own, that he wanted to watch and give pointers on the Gryffindor's form. So here Harry was, waltzing by himself.

"Draco," Harry began, rising and falling somewhat awkwardly, his face bright red, "I feel ridiculous."

Draco was having a hard time stifling his giggles. "You look ridiculous, too."

"Hey! That's not funny, Draco!" But Harry was smiling as he said it.

"Of course it is. Why do you think I had you do this, Harry? Did you honestly think it was going to help your dancing improve? I just had you do it so I could get sick amusement out of it."

Harry nearly stopped dancing at that. It probably would have been better if he had. Instead, he simply tripped...over nothing. The toe of one battered sneaker dug into the polished wood floor and he fell headfirst forwards, barely avoiding a fall. Catching himself, he turned to Draco with wide eyes. "No way!" he squawked.

Draco couldn't avoid laughing that time. "No," he said, trying to cover up his mad giggling with a loud cough. "I was just kidding. This actually will help you improve."

"Oh...okay." Harry continued dancing with just as much luck as before: none. It honestly was much easier with a partner, probably because he felt so silly.

There was a long, silent pause. Then: "...you _do_ look ridiculous, though."

Harry nearly stumbled again. "Well, you know what?" he mock-growled, not really annoyed at all. "If you're so good at it, why don't you..." He got no further. Draco grabbed him from behind, hands pressing flat-palmed against his hips. Harry froze, his heart thudding dully against his chest.

"...fancy a bit of help?" purred that familiar voice. Harry let out his breath in a long sigh.

"How did you guess?"

Draco chuckled, his breath warm against Harry's ear as he did so. "Hmmm," he hummed, pretending to think hard about the question. "...it wasn't that difficult."

Harry laughed. "Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it." Draco's body was pressed against Harry's, a fact that was keeping Harry's heart pounding away fiercely. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight or maybe even at all. "Come on, Harry...it's easy." Draco's hands moved, sliding gently and soft-palmed down Harry's thighs. "...like this." And he began moving with Harry, pressing his body against Harry's own and counting off the steps aloud. "One two three, four five six, one two three, four five six. Front side side, back side side..." with each step, Draco pressed against Harry, steering the brunette through the steps and also the motions, guiding him up and down each time. A good thing, too, for with Draco pressed against him like that, Harry was certain he could never have remembered which way was up or which was down, let alone have remembered to move in those directions.

"Draco…" he managed.

"Yes?" The whisper was so close, Draco's breath teasing across his neck and sending shivers up and down his spine. Harry promptly forgot every single step to the waltz.

Turns out they didn't get any more dancing done that night.

* * *

The days flew by. Most nights, the two spent all of their free time together, even when they weren't dancing. They had figured out places to go where no one would bother them, no one would see them, and every single night was spent together in their tent in the DAtDA classroom, waking early each morning to scamper back to their respective dormitories before anyone would miss them.

The two had grown closer daily, until Harry thought there was probably nothing about Draco he didn't know. He had certainly shared all of his secrets with Draco. He had even told Draco of his life with the Dursleys, and Draco had held him close and comforted him, never once trying to compare their home lives. No, he simply pulled Harry into his arms and kissed him, and made the Gryffindor feel more loved than he had in his entire life.

There was only a week left until the ball, and each day hurt a little bit more. Harry wondered if things would change after that day came and went. Would Draco still spend time with him like this? He felt that the answer must be yes, but there would really be no reason to. Unless they went public. Would Draco even _want_ to go public? And what exactly did they have to go public _with?_ What was this…. _thing_ ….between them? They had never really discussed it. They danced and laughed together, and even did such mundane things as study and read (Harry found he even enjoyed Draco's silent company). And every single night was spent wrapped in each other's arms, whether they had made love or not.

No, he couldn't bear the thought of letting Draco go.

He looked at the Slytherin. Draco was a few feet away, sprawled on his stomach as he worked on his homework. He had piles of papers spread out before him, and his sleeves were rolled up with those elastic headbands he had worn the day Harry had shown up on his doorstep those few weeks ago. Only this time, he had one in his hair, too, pushing the blonde locks out of his eyes. It should have looked stupid but instead it was ridiculously adorable, and somehow attractive as well. He was scowling down at his textbook, brow crinkled with concentration. Finally, he noticed Harry's attention, the lines fading from his face as he glanced up.

"What," he asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Harry flushed at being caught. "You're just very distracting."

 _…..distracting._

The word rang in Draco's head, tugging at a recent memory. Oh yes. A grin lit up his face. "I seem to remember you saying that not so long ago." For Harry had said the same thing that night in the dance club.

"Did I?" Harry asked weakly.

"Yes. You did." Draco sounded beyond gleeful; pulling the headband off, he shook his hair free and sat up, facing Harry. "You also never got around to telling me what part of me you found distracting."

Harry scowled. "You get far too much joy out of this."

The blonde laughed. "Oh, come on, Harry, if it were me, you'd be giving me hell." Harry had to concede the point. "So come on, Harry. Tell me."

The Gryffindor was blushing, but he looked Draco straight in the eye and answered. "Everything."

Draco was taken aback. "I…..what?"

"You heard me. I find everything about you distracting."

Draco was staring, completely stunned; Harry returned the gaze, unflinching, refusing to back down, no matter how embarrassed he might be. "You….that…." Draco didn't know what to say to that. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. But then again, no one had ever treated him like Harry, either. He had never met anyone who made him feel so special, like someone worthwhile, someone who honestly made him believe that he wasn't worthless, like his father had told him all these years.

The words came tumbling out before he could stop himself. "I love you."

Those green eyes widened; Harry stared at him, shocked. Draco felt as if he were going to faint. He couldn't believe he had just said that aloud.

"I…..I'm sorry," he managed. Harry's expression faltered.

"Are you?" he asked. There was something about the look on his face that confused Draco. He looked away.

"Yes."

"…..because you didn't mean it?"

But Draco couldn't lie. Harry deserved better than that. He shook his head. "No. No, I meant it."

"Then why on earth are you sorry?"

"Because…." It hurt. _God_ , it hurt. "I shouldn't have said anything. You deserve better than me."

Harry was going to hit him. Christ, he was gonna hit him. "….you….stupid, beautiful idiot."

Draco's head shot up, eyes wide with surprise. "….what?"

But Harry only grabbed Draco, yanking him into a crushing hug. "There _is_ no one better than you," he murmured. "You're all I could ever want."

Draco felt tears burning his eyes. "….Harry…"

The brunette pulled back, softly kissing Draco. "I love you too."

Those were words that Draco had never heard from anyone other than his mother, and never expected to. He had REALLY never expected hear them from someone he truly loved. And Harry? Harry was special.

Draco cupped Harry's face in his hands, kissing him again. "You're _wonderful_ ," he murmured.

"Likewise." Harry's hands ran over Draco's shoulders, down his chest. "Draco…." Clearly the blonde was feeling the same way, for he shivered. "Think we can move this to the bed?"

"Definitely."

The tent they had brought with them was a small one. There was only one bedroom inside, along with a tiny kitchen and bathroom, absolutely nothing on what Harry had stayed in when the Weasleys had taken him to the Quidditch World Cup, but he and Draco didn't need anything large.

He pulled Draco down onto the bed with him, hands rucking up the boy's sweater, making a frustrated sound at finding the white button-down beneath. "You always wear too many clothes."

Draco laughed. "Sorry. I'll work on it."

"Please do." He had barely managed to divest Draco of his tops before Draco was doing the same, pulling off Harry's t-shirt and tossing it aside. Both went to work on the other's slacks at the same time as if by unspoken agreement.

Now completely bare, Harry rolled Draco beneath him, a hand fisting in that pale blonde hair as he captured Draco's lips in his. In the small matter of days, Harry had grown much more confident. Draco had given him every reason to be. With all the whimpers and moans of pleasure that every one of Harry's reactions elicited, he had to be doing SOMETHING right, and Draco never failed to offer him reassurances when he asked for them outright.

"Want you," Harry managed breathlessly.

"I'm yours."

Harry paused, staring down at Draco, for this time, there was a far deeper meaning to those words than ever before. Draco didn't just mean it physically; no. Draco was Harry's, body, mind, and soul. The Gryffindor smiled, a fingertip lightly tracing Draco's jawline. "Likewise."

That one word set Draco's face aglow. Harry had to kiss him, soft and deep, Draco's hands tangling in Harry's messy brown hair.

It was no longer strange or nerve-wracking to stretch Draco open. On the contrary, Harry loved having Draco at his mercy, moaning as Harry's fingers teased him, two stretching, a third teasing over that sweet spot until he was practically sobbing with need.

Tonight, Draco broke, and Harry found himself being flipped onto his back. He stared up at Draco in surprise as the boy grabbed a condom from the bedside table. He seemed to have decided it was time for a bit of payback for he unrolled the condom slowly enough to be torturous, his hands teasingly light on Harry's cock; simultaneously he pressed feather-light kisses across the brunette's thigh, so close and yet so far away from where Harry most wanted attention.

Harry clenched handfuls of blonde hair and _pulled_ ; he couldn't help it. " _Draco_."

Grey eyes flicked up to look at Harry. "Yes, love?"

The endearment made something clench in Harry's gut, sent warmth flooding through him. "Don't tease," Harry managed through clenched teeth.

Draco smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it." Shifting, he positioned himself above Harry. The brunette's eyes widened. Was Draco going to ride him? Apparently so, for now Draco took Harry in hand and slowly, carefully, he eased himself down onto Harry's cock, breath coming in a sharp hiss at the initial breach.

" _Draco_." It was so different than the feeling of having Draco on his back, but no less intense. And seeing Draco there above him? _God_. Harry stared up at him, eyes wide. Fully-seated now, Draco smiled down at him and held out his hands. Harry took them, linking their fingers. Then, Draco began to move.

Harry couldn't tear his eye away. Draco was _gorgeous_. His hips rolled in smooth, steady motions. Somehow he even made _sex_ look like he was dancing; he was that fluid and graceful. And fuck all, but it felt amazing.

"Draco," Harry managed. Draco merely smiled, leaning down to claim a kiss. Harry released one of Draco's hands so that he could cup the boy's cheek, deepening the kiss. Eventually he got the presence of mind to work with Draco, their hips rocking together as he moved to meet Draco's movements. He planted his feet against the mattress so that he could thrust up harder into Draco.

" _Fuck!_ " Yes, that did it. Draco's grip on Harry's hand tightened. "Holy shit, Harry."

Feeling rather smug that he had the hang of things now, Harry repeated the move, delighting in the moan he wrung out of Draco. He moved a hand to Draco's cock and began to pump it in rhythm with their motions. Draco was close, Harry could tell from the way his cock was weeping.

Shifting, Harry wrapped an arm about Draco's back and pulled the boy further into his lap so that he could get the angle deeper, thrusting harder. It was a very good thing they had the privacy of the tent, for the cry Draco let out was extremely loud. "Harry!"

"I love you," Harry murmured, kissing Draco's throat. "I love you so much."

That was all it took, those few words and Draco was coming. As usual with them, one followed the other. Harry came as Draco clung to him, shivering with the aftershock of all that had just happened. Harry continued to lay kisses all along Draco's throat, his shoulders. Eventually, Draco withdrew so he could look Harry in the eye; he cupped the brunette's face, kissing him.

"I love you, Harry Potter," he said softly. "More than anything in this world."

Harry looked into those beautiful eyes and thought he could melt. He didn't know how they had come here in such a short amount of time (only two and a half weeks!) but he thanked God for it every day, for bringing Draco Malfoy into his life. Smiling, he brushed a lock of blonde hair behind Draco's ear. "I love you, too," he murmured. "I love you, too."

 **~tbc~**


	10. Chapter 10

There were only three days remaining until the ball, and Harry was getting more and more anxious as each day went by. He was supposed to open the ball with a partner, yet he still hadn't asked anyone, and honestly, he didn't want to. He hated the thought of dancing with anyone but Draco, even if it were a friend, like Ginny. He didn't even want to keep his relationship with Draco covered up (for it WAS a relationship….they had come to that decision together). He just wasn't sure if Draco felt the same. It was a question that needed an answer. He just wasn't certain how to go about asking it.

Draco was currently reading a copy of Ray Bradbury's _'Fahrenheit 451'_ (Harry had discovered with quite a shock that Draco had a great love for muggle literature). Harry was curled on the bed beside him, his head in Draco's lap. _Well, no time like the present_. "Draco?"

"Yes, love?" Those graceful fingers didn't stop running through Harry's messy hair.

"Are going to tell everyone that we're together?"

Draco's hand paused in its ministrations. Not a good sign. "….what?"

Harry sat up to face Draco. The blonde didn't appear upset, but there _was_ a look of casually adopted calm to his face that Harry wasn't so crazy about. "Well, we're in a relationship. I'm just wondering if we're going to go public with it."

Draco was silent for a moment as if trying to think of the best way to phrase his answer. "…I'd like to…eventually. I mean, it's bound to be a huge shock. So I think we have to tread carefully."

Harry's heart had leapt at the initial words, only to fall at that one word "eventually". "…..oh."

Draco arched a brow. "Why? Why 'oh'?"

"…I was kind of hoping you'd go to the ball with me…." The words were mumbled, barely audible. Still, it was impossible to miss the sharp intake of Draco's breath.

"…..the ball? You want me to go to the ball with you?" Harry nodded meekly. "…..Harry…..you can't be serious."

"Why not?" Harry was defensive.

"Harry, two boys going to a dance together would be progressive for Hogwarts in _any_ situation. For it to be _us?_ "

Harry knew that Draco was right, but he couldn't find it in him to give a damn right now. "Why do you care what people think?!" But Draco had no answer, sitting there staring, shocked at the sudden snap to Harry's voice. "You're the one who said how during these years you were sleeping with so many people because you were looking for something to fill the hole. Well you know what? Here it is. This is it. You wanted a commitment. You wanted someone who would love you, someone you could love back. Here I am, and here you are, and you're too damned scared to do a thing about it."

"Harry—"

But Harry wasn't listening. Frustrated, he pushed his way out of the tent and out of the classroom, leaving Draco staring after him.

For a long time, Draco simply sat there in a daze, unmoving; finally, he began to silently cry.

* * *

Harry stormed through the hallway. He couldn't _believe_ Draco. Didn't he want to go public? It wouldn't be a piece of cake but they would be together. Didn't he _want_ that?

Harry slouched against the wall and slid to the floor, deep in thought. Sure, going to the ball together wouldn't be easy. Some people would be mean. There were bound to be those who would insult them.

A memory tickled at his brain, Lucius Malfoy's cruel eyes swimming before him, the way he had hurled insults at Draco, calling him a slut, a whore. The realization hit him with the force of a mack truck.

Draco had faced so many insults in his life. He had avoided touch like it was the plague. Now Harry was asking him to dance, something he clearly loved, in front of a group of people who might subsequently insult him and Harry, the person that he loved. Why would Draco want to risk adding yet another bad experience to his life, especially when it would taint two of the things he loved most?

Harry was on his feet in an instant, rushing back to the classroom. It was silent inside, but when he ducked into the tent, he was unsurprised to see that Draco had been crying. He sat beside the blonde, pulling Draco into his arms. Draco didn't resist.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I'm so sorry."

"No," Draco shook his head. "I am. I shouldn't be so uptight. I just….you're special. I don't want our first public experience to be a bad one."

Harry nodded. "I figured that out."

With a sigh, Draco leaned his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry gave him a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry I pushed you," he said softly. "We'll do it whenever and however you want to."

Draco looked up at Harry, a bit of an evil twinkle in his eyes. "You just talking bout the coming out, or does this extend to all angles of our relationship?"

Harry swatted Draco's shoulder. "Pervert."

Draco merely laughed and snuggled closer. "Thanks, love. Really. It means a lot."

One hand beneath Draco's chin, Harry tilted his face up to claim a soft kiss. "Of course. You mean the world to me."

The blonde smiled. "I love you, Potter."

Harry smiled in return. "I love you too, Malfoy."

* * *

"I wish you would change your mind."

It was the night of the ball, and Harry was almost ready to go. The previous night, he had brought his dress robes to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, knowing that if he didn't get dressed there, Draco wouldn't get a chance to see him dressed up, since the Slytherin wasn't intending to attend the ball. He refused to give a reason why, but Harry knew: it was too painful to see Harry go with anyone else, even if that someone else had turned out to be Hermione who had never been anything more than a friend.

"I'm sorry," Draco said quietly, straightening Harry's bowtie. Harry reached out, fingers brushing Draco's pale cheek in a gentle caress. The Slytherin bit his lip, grey eyes filled with sadness as they regarded Harry.

"I love you." With that, Harry left the room without looking back, as if, if he did so, he would break.

Draco stared after Harry, unable to move. If someone had told him a month ago that he would be in this situation, he never would have believed them. From the first moment he had laid eyes on Harry Potter in _Madame Malkin's Dress Shop_ , he had known the boy was special. And then he had tried to make friends with him on the train….

Dammit, the rejection _still_ hurt. For years after that, Draco had been cruel to Harry and his friends at every chance he got, trying to convince himself and everyone around him that he hated the Gryffindor. It was better, he told himself repeatedly, than being rejected. But he had never been able to convince himself. Harry Potter was special, and Draco wanted to be his friend. Maybe even more, if that quivering feeling in his stomach was any indication.

Then came these dance lessons, and Draco had gotten his chance, a chance he had never thought to get. And then somehow, despite all the odds, Harry Potter had fallen in love with HIM.

 _So what in God's name are you doing hiding in this bloody tent?_

Draco attempted to ignore that stupid little voice the same way that he had done for these past four years, but he never HAD been fully successful. He only lasted about five minutes before he cracked. "Oh, bloody hell."

 _Hold onto your knickers, Harry. I'm coming for you._

* * *

Harry stared at the great hall, filled with foreboding. Hermione could clearly sense it. "Hey." He looked to her. She gave him a reassuring smile. "It'll be okay."

He attempted to smile back. Honestly, Harry would wager that Hermione had a good guess that something was going on with him and Draco. He had been vanishing for great periods of time….far longer than dance lessons should take. It was easy to pull one over on Ron, but Hermione picked up on things like that, and she always had a slightly knowing look on her face these days.

The music began and, taking Hermione's arm in his, Harry led her into the ballroom. All of the students were gathered there, but for some reason, it wasn't as nerve-wracking as he remembered. He supposed that all of his experiences with Draco had given him more confidence than he had expected.

 _Draco…_

An image of the boy floated through his mind, smile on his face and in those grey eyes, so beautiful that it made Harry's chest ache. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be back in their tent, the other boy tight in his arms, running his fingers through those golden locks.

"Harry."

Harry stirred at the sound of his name. Hermione was looking at him meaningfully. He realized that Dumbledore and McGonagall were waiting for him to open the ball. At the same exact moment came the realization that he just couldn't do it.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said softly. "But I can't."

"Draco?" she whispered. He felt only the vaguest surprise.

"So you _did_ suspect."

"Of course I did."

He couldn't help but smile. Hermione was always several steps ahead of the rest of them. He turned to Dumbledore and McGonagall. "I'm sorry, Professors, but I can't do it."

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't answer, merely stepped up to the podium that Dumbledore usually spoke from, and faced the room. "So I'm supposed to dance," he began. Hundreds of eyes stared back at him. He flushed nervously. This was rather daunting without Draco by his side. "But I can't do that." Immediately a humming rose around the room as people began to whisper. "You see, I met someone this month—well, I guess more like got to know them—and we fell in love."

The soft hum immediately grew to a roar. Only a wave of Dumbledore's hand silenced it. But Harry was finished. "And….well, it wouldn't be right for me to open the ball with anyone else." He looked to Dumbledore. The man gave him a nod, and there was a twinkle of a knowing smile in those eyes.

Harry left the podium. Hermione was waiting for him. She was smiling as well, and looking rather proud. Harry offered his arm and she accepted, letting him lead her to the Gryffindor table. Then, his ears burning both from flushed embarrassment and from all the whispering he heard, whispers he knew were about him, Harry walked quickly towards the door, head down.

He was so focused on his feet that he didn't notice that his path was blocked until he nearly walked into the person. "Oh, I'm sorry—" but his eyes widened when he saw who it was. "….. _Draco_ …"

The blonde was smiling. "I liked your speech."

Slowly, a smile spread across Harry's face. "You…" He took in Draco's form. The Slytherin was dressed to the nines in his own dress robes.

Harry thought he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"…you changed your mind?"

Draco nodded. "I decided it was ridiculous to let a little thing like prejudice stop me from dancing with the man I've loved since I set eyes on him in _Madame Malkins'_."

The Gryffindor began to laugh, then stopped as the words set in. " _Madame_ …..Draco, that was our first year!"

The blonde was blushing. "I know."

Harry was stunned. "But….you've been so mean all these years."

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "Rejection is a hard pill to swallow. I was bitter and immature." He smiled. "Forgive me?"

Harry thought he would melt; he shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive."

The words made Draco glow; he gestured with his head towards the great hall. "Shall we?"

The suggestion sent shock through Harry. "You really want to?"

"Most definitely." Draco took Harry's hand. "Come on, Harry. I didn't give you lessons just to have you wuss out."

If people had been chattering at Harry's impromptu speech, it was nothing on the noise they made when he reappeared holding Draco's hand. Chaos erupted, and both boys flushed.

"Hey." Draco looked up at the sound of Harry's voice. "You sure you're okay with this?"

Draco nodded. "Definitely." Stopping in the center of the makeshift dance floor, he extended a hand.

Harry looked from the hand to Draco, smiling. "I guess we're done with 'no touching'?"

Draco shrugged, small smile on his face. "I'm pretty sure that rule is no longer applicable in any part of our relationship." The words sent warmth fluttering through Harry.

Draco proffered the hand once more and, his smile growing, Harry took it. With one swift tug, Harry yanked Draco towards him, spinning the Slytherin in a full circle. Caught off his guard, Draco stumbled dizzily through the 360 degree turn and came face to face with Harry. Their chests collided and the two boys stared at one another from mere inches away.

Slowly, a smile curved across Draco's lips. "Not bad, Potter. Now show me what you've got."

By the end of the dance, Ron was forced to agree that Draco was a very good teacher indeed, even if he wasn't so crazy about the methods Draco seemed to have employed (if the way that the two kissed at the end of the dance was any indication). Still, Harry seemed happy, and that was all that truly mattered.

If people were yelling insults, it was impossible to hear them above the general roar of cheering. Harry grinned at Draco. "I'm happy you came."

"Mmm," Draco hummed, and brushed a kiss to Harry's lips. "So am I." He leaned his head on Harry's shoulder.

Harry's arm tightened slightly around Draco's waist, pulling the blonde closer to him; they danced together under the starlight and snowfall of the great hall's enchanted ceiling, completely oblivious to everyone around them, lost entirely in one another and the love they felt. In each other, they had found a love they had never known, and never expected to. With one another, they were complete.

 **~tbc~**


	11. Epilogue

Harry smiled as he made his way into Hogwarts. It had been eight years since he had graduated, yet somehow this place still felt like home. Well….his second home. Now, home was with Draco, a charming little flat just outside of London. They had moved in together shortly after graduating and had lived there ever since. However, after a few years, they ended up having to take rooms at Hogwarts as well, for Professor Dumbledore contacted Draco about a new program he was thinking about beginning.

Hogwarts had always taught a Muggle Studies class. However, Dumbledore thought that it might be time to expand on that. Students who came to Hogwarts from all-magical backgrounds often had little to no grasp of the muggle world, and prejudices frequently arose. It would be a good idea to change that, and Dumbledore thought Draco was the perfect person to do it. After all, the blonde himself came from a pureblood family, yet he had taught himself about muggle culture, and loved it. He could lead by example.

So it was that Draco began teaching an elective class on muggle literature at Hogwarts.

Harry thought it was Goddamn adorable. He loved coming to Hogwarts after a long day at work and sneaking into Draco's class, seeing the blonde up at the front of the room, dressed up in a tie and robes but still with his hair a mess (it seemed the default state when Draco was around books), novel in hand as he lectured about anything from Shakespeare to Salinger.

 _Fuck_ , it was sexy.

He turned out to be extremely popular with his students as well, if the way they looked at him was any indication. Little hearts practically flew out of their eyes as they stared at them, and Harry had heard more than one adoring sigh on the occasions he had slipped into class. The girls often lingered once the session was done, clamoring for extra attention, and some of the boys did as well.

Yes, Draco was popular. It was this very popularity that lead Professor McGonagall to ask him, come Christmastime, if he would teach an afterschool dancing class in preparation for the Yule Ball. Harry wasn't so crazy about that idea. He liked having Draco's dancing all to himself. Still, seeing the way those grey eyes had lit up at the idea of getting to do more dancing, Harry couldn't begrudge him the lessons.

It was getting towards evening time, and the end of dancing lessons. Harry pushed open the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom as quietly as he could so as not to disturb those within.

Inside, Draco was partnering a young lady who Harry vaguely recognized….a third year, he believed. She had light brown hair so frizzy that it almost reminded him of Hermione's. The sight brought a smile to his face. Judging by the bright pink of her cheeks, he would bet good money that she had a crush on Draco.

Clearly, Harry hadn't succeeded in his attempt at quiet, for Draco looked up. A smile lit up that lovely face when he saw that it was Harry in the doorway, and he stopped dancing at once. "Well, everyone, it looks like it's that time."

Draco's partner turned to the door to see what had caught Draco's attention and her face immediately darkened with angry storm clouds when she saw Harry. About half the other students wore similar expressions.

Harry winced internally. As soon as Draco's students had realized he was dating Harry, they had immediately developed a severe dislike for the brunette. It would have been frustrating were it not so amusing.

"Sorry," he apologized, but it did nothing to lessen the glares, students muttering as they began gathering their things.

"So I'll see all of you again on Monday." Draco patted a boy on the back as he passed by. "Have a good weekend!"

The students parroted his good wishes back to him as they filed out of the room, leaving the two men alone. Harry smiled at Draco. "They weren't happy to see me."

Draco laughed. "They never are." It was a constant source of amusement to Draco how jealous his students were of his relationship. "Did McGonagall catch you on your way in?"

Harry nodded. "She did."

"What did she want?"

Harry settled his weight back on the desk at the head of the room, the only one that hadn't been pushed aside to make space for dancing. "She wanted to know how much longer I'm planning to be an auror. She'd like me to consider coming back here to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Both of Draco's brows shot up in surprise. "Really? Harry….that…would you want to do that?"

"Hell yeah! Teaching? And here, with you? I'd _love_ that!"

"Soon?" There was a tone to Draco's voice that he was clearly trying to suppress…..Harry thought it was hope. He chuckled.

"Yeah. Soon." Immediately, Draco was in his arms, hugging him tight.

"Thank God," the blonde murmured. Harry laughed softly.

"Worried about me?"

" _Always_." Draco nuzzled into the curve of Harry's throat, kissing the soft skin; his fingers clutched handfuls of Harry's sweater. "Every time you go out in the field, I worry. I'm so terrified of losing you."

The words made Harry's heart ache. He pressed a kiss to Draco's brow. "Well, you don't have to worry any longer. They want me to take over as soon as possible. So if I'm agreeable, Professor Singer will take his retirement early and I'll start right away."

Immediately, Draco's mouth was on his, kissing him fervently. Harry laughed into the kiss. "I take it that you approve?"

"Yes!" Harry didn't know the last time he had heard Draco sound so happy. "Oh, please."

"Okay. I'll let McGonagall know." He ran his fingers through that messy blonde hair, brushing a lock out of Draco's eyes. "Means we'll be spending much more time here than at the flat."

Draco shrugged. "Can still go home to the flat on the weekends. That way we can spend time with mom."

Narcissa Malfoy had stayed close ever since her escape from her husband. These days, she lived only minutes down the road from them, and they took tea together at least once a week. She loved Harry as if he were her own son….something Draco was working on.

….speaking of which….

"I have something to ask you."

"Oh?" Harry raised a brow. Flushing, Draco nodded, and he turned away, heading to his satchel. Harry watched curiously as Draco rooted around in his bag, finally returning to Harry's side. His cheeks were pink as he offered up a tiny box, opening it to reveal a shining gold band.

"I was going to get silver, but then I remembered Gryffindor, and this seemed more fitting." Harry didn't say a word, merely stared with wide eyes, and Draco flushed even more. "….so? Will you marry me?"

Slowly, those huge green eyes looked up at Draco in disbelief. It wasn't very reassuring. Draco immediately began to panic. "It's fine," he said. "It was stupid. I'm sorry—" He made to put the box away, but Harry grabbed his hand.

"Are you crazy?" It was Draco's turn to stare in surprise. "Of COURSE I'll marry you!" That beautiful face split into a smile, that lovely smile that Harry always wanted to kiss. So he did, cupping Draco's face in his hands and kissing him again, and still again.

By the time he pulled away, the smile on Draco's face had turned somewhat goofy. " _Really?_ "

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that expression. "Really." He offered his hand so that there could be no doubt.

His face aglow with happiness, Draco slipped the ring onto Harry's finger. Immediately, Harry held his hand out to admire the way it looked. They were engaged. He and Draco were _engaged_. He kissed Draco again, long and slow this time. The blonde clearly had no objections, a hand tangling in Harry's thick brown hair as he pressed back into the kiss, deepening it.

For several moments, the room was silent but for the sounds of their kissing. Then, the kiss was broken when Harry began to laugh.

"What?" Draco was perturbed at the interruption. "What's so funny?"

"Your students are gonna HATE me."

The blonde laughed at that. "Oh, they already do."

Harry couldn't help the burst of laughter. "Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it." Draco grinned. "Anyway, they should know by now that Draco Malfoy is off the market. That was a done deal a long time ago." Practically from the first moment he had laid eyes on Harry all those years ago in _Madame Malkin's_ dress shop.

Harry smiled as though he too were remembering the confession Draco had made. He brushed a stray lock of golden hair out of Draco's eyes. Draco caught Harry's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. He smiled at Harry.

"Would you care to dance, Mr. Potter?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "I'd love to, Mr. Malfoy." Holding Draco's hand, he let the man lead him out to the center of the room, and as Draco hummed, they began to waltz.

After a moment or two, Harry could hear words amidst Draco's humming; he listened closer.

"I wanna break every clock…the hands of time could never move again. We could stay in this moment for the rest of our lives."

Harry felt warm butterflies rushing through him; his arm tightened around Draco's waist, pulling the man that much closer as he listened to Draco's sweet voice softly singing.

"I wanna be your last first kiss that you'll ever have. I wanna be your last first love. Till you're lying beside me with arms and eyes open wide. I wanna be your last first kiss for all time."

Harry withdrew just far enough to look Draco in the eye; he softly kissed the blonde. "I love you."

"I love you, too." The words were no more than a whisper. Draco leaned his head on Harry's shoulder and together they danced until darkness fell outside and the stars came out, as bright and shining as their future together.

 **~fin~**


End file.
